


All These Years

by raven_aorla



Series: Time Out of Mind [16]
Category: 18th Century CE RPF, 19th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Coming Out, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Emotional Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mental Health Issues, Modern AU, Only characters with prominent roles are tagged, Part of the big AU but standalone, Sibling Love, Sibling Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-08-20 00:38:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 22,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8230199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raven_aorla/pseuds/raven_aorla
Summary: It's the summer of 2017. Henry Laurens desperately needs help. Will his estranged children answer the call? And what will his non-estranged children make of all this?[Can be read on its own.]





	1. (Curtain Rises)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My condensed version of the Laurens siblings:  
> (if LMM gets to delete Schuylers...)
> 
> \- John "Jack" Laurens: 29 
> 
> \- Martha "Missy" Laurens: 26 
> 
> \- Henry "Junior" Laurens, Jr: 22 (To whom I apologize for portraying as a jerk here. I want to show different responses towards growing up in a toxic emotional environment.) 
> 
> \- James "Jamie" Laurens: 20 (This is my version of the historical younger brother who died in a childhood accident. In this era, we have ambulances.)
> 
> I'm mostly going to concentrate on Tomorrow and Tomorrow until it's done - this idea wouldn't let me go until I carved out a space for it. Consider it a teaser trailer. With a bonus non-Hamilton lyric reference.

Dear Missy,

Thanks for the exam week care package, especially the nicotine patches, oh my f*-ing goodness. It's nice to know my favorite older sister is in my corner, all the way across the...whatever's between us. Sea? Mountains? Salt flats? Sinkholes? FJORDS??????

I didn't tell anyone, like your note asked. If I tell you I punched Junior in the face for saying Dad should stop being so patient with you and just cut you off like Jack, will you tell me where you are? What the heck I gotta dooooooo to be with you? (I didn't punch him, but I poured water inside his stupid briefcase when he was drunk. He thinks he did it by accident.)

The level to which Dad's been a d-bag since you left has really changed my outlook, and I looked up some info on emotional abuse like you suggested. Dang. Also a few days ago he literally screamed at me for switching to Elementary Education with a concentration in working with learning disabilities as my major. Because wanting to help children is too girly, or something. I started tuning it out about two sentences in. My scholarship covers enough that a loan would be manageable if he follows through on his ultimatum, and I've saved enough to survive frugally like you advised, and think of what I'm saving on Oliver Twist! (if you ever see me with a tin of it, please take it away and force me to spit out anything I've packed in my cheek. I want some morrrrrrre) 

Ok, here's the rough part, and I understand if your reaction is to give a hearty laugh, though I hope not:

Dad needs a bone marrow transplant. Junior's not a match, despite practically being his clone, like he takes his name way too seriously. I'm not a match. The family we've tried aren't matches, The registries we've contacted haven't found a match yet. There's a strong possibility that he's gonna die if he doesn't get one soon. Being the kind of father who keeps you fed, clothed, educated, but miserable doesn't warrant a death sentence.

So I'm asking you to get tested, please please please. The likelihood of a relative being a match is still higher than average. I can send you Dad's info so you can get the easy test done on with your own medical people and compare. That way if you're NOT a match, you can wash your hands of this with a clean conscience and not wade into this fustercluck. It's common to do it remotely and anonymously, but given how Dad is, I realize you might still be nervous.

If I had any idea how to get in touch with Jack, I'd ask him the same thing. That's how desperate I'm getting here.

Anyway, tell me where to send info if you're up for it.

Love,  
Jamie

***

Um. Did the thing.

I'm not a match. Jack is. So we need to talk.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Americans: It's an easy and free test to be on the national bone marrow registry. They mail you some sealed swabs for inside your mouth and you mail them back. They'll contact you if there's ever a match. 70% of American bone marrow transplants are between strangers. They're anonymous and at a distance.
> 
> https://bethematch.org/
> 
> Non-Americans: try https://www.bmdw.org/ (Bone Marrow Donors Worldwide). Look in the comments for UK info that a reader has shared. I'm sure others are out there, too.


	2. (Enter Jamie)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This won't be a regular thing, but it was my birthday and I gave myself permission to be bad and procrastinate by updating two fics in one day.

_To: John Laurens_

_From: Martha Manning_

_Re: a revelation_

_WHAAAAAAAAAT_

_WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT_

_You’re a better person than I am, Earthling. That’s all I can think of to say. But why on your eponymous Earth are you going to actually face the beast rather than donate anonymously and let him think it was some random benefactor?_

***

Jamie popped a piece of hard candy to keep between his cheek and gum as he parked his car where his sister(!) had told him to. That helped. There was no longer a nicotine patch in a small enough dose.

He texted Missy’s new phone number and she buzzed him in. He took the stairs to work out some of the energy. He’d spent the entire drive, hours and hours, thinking about what he would say to her, let alone what to say to - well. He was so distracted that he had to text her again for which apartment door to knock on.

She opened the door on the first knock, letting out a sob and just latching onto him.

“Are you shaking?” she asked after a moment of interlocked silence.

“Just withdrawal. Also I need to pee.” Great. Smooth.

With an unsteady laugh, she took his bag and pointed him towards the bathroom. When he emerged, there was a big glass of water and some fruit and nuts on the coffee table, and a big sister who patted the spot on the couch next to her. “Trip okay? Were you followed?”

Ah, her flair for the dramatic. He’d missed that. “I don’t think so. A friend of mine’s agreed to be my alibi, but I think Junior’s too busy hovering around the hospital to really care. You look really good, by the way. Not just pretty, but...good. Well. You look well. Healthy and, like, confident?”

“Thank you, Jim-Jam. You really don’t look any of those things.”

“I’d like to not elaborate on that until I’ve had food, and maybe some sleep.”

“Fair enough.”

“Does Jack live here, or…?” He could see pictures of him on the wall, ones he was pretty sure were recent, and resisted the urge to get up and look closer. Missy had told him only that Dad lied as to why their brother left, and that the rest of the story was Jack’s to tell.

“He did until recently. He still lives nearby, though, drops in a lot. My roommate won’t be back for a few hours.”

Okay, you know what? Jamie was done dancing around this. He was nine-years done. “Where is he? You said he’d talk to me if I came in person. Here I am.”

“Promise to be patient and calm as you can, all right? He’s been through a lot.”

Missy handed him the glass of water. Jamie did not want the glass of water. He took a sip and realized that no, he really did want the glass of water, and drank half of it in undignified gulps. He wiped his mouth. “I will be as a Buddhist monk on Xanax. It’s been so long. I can’t even remember what his voice sounds like.”

“Something like this,” said a voice from the kitchen, because Jack had evidently been hiding in the pantry, like Jamie scared him, and Jamie hoped this day wasn’t going to get any weirder than that concept.

He wasn’t as tall as Jamie remembered, which made sense. His hair was long now. He wore shorts and a t-shirt. Nervous smile. Approaching slowly, hopeful-stray-cat style.

“Ommm,” Jamie said.

“I’m not sure if that counts as cultural appropriation or not,” Jack said with dry humor. It was not what Jamie expected.

Missy rolled her eyes. “You could ask Pierre, doesn’t he have a cousin who’s a Buddhist monk? Make contact with our baby bro, for crying out loud.”

Jack reached them, close enough to shake hands, but shaking hands would be weird. He said quietly, what might have been tenderly, “Who gave you permission to become an adult?”

“I seized the opportunity when nobody was looking. Let me be frank here. I’m not sure whether I want to hug you or challenge you to a duel.”

With a suddenly sad expression, John took a seat in what looked like a very comfortable chair. “To pack as much relevant info in a single sentence as possible: I would turn down the duel, because my boyfriend says it's unfair of me to beat up guys who weren't also in the military - however briefly - even though as a depression coping mechanism it's better than attempting suicide again."

Oh.

“I spent a month in the psych ward where Missy works. Coincidence or fate.”

Oh.

“It’s really nice place, actually. Her boyfriend works there, too, their resident GP.”

Oh.

“That was nearly two years ago. I’ve been doing much better than I have since...ever, I guess. I have friends. A job I like.”

Huh.

“Jamie?”

Mmm, delicious water, which you cannot drink and speak words at the same time. It bought Jamie another few seconds. Then he said, “I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t kill Dad to yank out his IV, just really hurt him until someone fixed it.”

“Jamie!” Missy tossed a pistachio at him. He wasn’t sure whether it was meant to be, ‘you’re stressed, here’s a nut’ or ‘you’re nuts, you’re stressing me’, but he caught it and put it back in the bowl. Like his swimming, his hand-eye coordination was better than many people's because he'd had so much motor skills therapy and become so intense about overcoming his brain injury. Though his short term memory and attention span were still below par.

“You’re right about him not deserving to die for making us miserable. He also doesn't deserve to die for when I came out to him and he threw me out, disinherited me, and kept me apart from you.” Jack rubbed his right shoulder as if it had just twinged. “You know what he does deserve? Knowing that the only way he gets to live is if he accepts some filthy, homosexual, mentally ill, left-wing, prodigal-son stem cells.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jamie's being way more of an angry smol than I initially envisioned, and I think that's what's compelling me. His backstory is a teeny-tiny bit different from his brief mention in Sharps Hour, but guess who went back and changed it?


	3. brief aside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, apparently this will just alternate with Tomorrow and Tomorrow depending on what I feel like writing.

_To: Martha Laurens_

_From: Martha Manning_

_Re: oh brother_

_Don’t feel guilty about fobbing Jamie off on his big brother and letting them do their thing. They need to learn each other again no matter what, and running interference is gonna, well, interfere. And exhaust you. Don't feel guilty about turning to me, either, for outside perspective. Not a lot of people have known both John Laurens Before and John Laurens After._

_Jane sends her love, too. Can I maybe ask her for help in phrasing my advice and comfort to you? She’s the pro at writing about complicated emotions. It’s fine if not. I’ll ask Earthling separately about what we talk about._

_Hey, unrelated, but I just started playing Portal (yes, I know, I’m a fuddy-duddy, eons behind), and there’s a puzzle I’m stuck on…_

***

Given the option of staying overnight at Missy’s or at Jack’s, Jamie had to choose Jack. The surprise. The enigma. The collection of childhood memories made anxious flesh. Missy made sure Jack had adequate food supplies and said they could hash out details about their journey to Charleston when everyone had recovered a bit. Jamie was fine with that.

Jack had taken public transport here, so he got in Jamie’s car and directed the short drive. “We’ve still got a mattress and some sheets and things in the home office. Used to be his old roommate’s room. Hope you don’t mind a pair of very sweet pet rats in a very clean cage. That okay? Okay. Right at the next light, and then two buildings down.”

They didn’t talk about anything other than the route. Jamie might have crashed the car if they had. The Werther’s Original was nearly dissolved. He’d need to stick another piece in his mouth soon, if it hadn’t melted while he was inside. Stupid, stupid.

“Want help with your things?’ Jack asked as they entered.

“Nah, I’m fine as long as we don’t take the stairs.”

“Cool.”

The silence inside the elevator was painful, so Jamie cleared his throat and said, “You played softball during summer breaks. I remember. You were good.”

“I was, but the pressure took the fun out of it. Fenced for a little while in college.”

“Why’d you stop?”

“Long, really bittersweet story that I’ll tell you if you really want. Later. You swim for your school, right? What’s your specialty?”

“Freestyle.” Ding. Jamie stood back for Jack to get out into the hallway first. He was the one who knew the way, after all. Jamie made a vague hip-hop-esque gesture. “Naturally.”

“Ah, a champion punster. I’m so proud.” Jack led them to his door.

There was a guy about Jack’s age sitting at the dining table, reading from a Kindle and eating a bowl of cereal dry, with milk on the side. He was wearing a loosened tie, unbuttoned white button-up revealing a light gray undershirt, rumpled black slacks, and no shoes or socks. What was probably his belt was draped across the back of the adjoining chair. The bags under his eyes could practically be used as extra pockets if his shirt and pants ones weren’t enough. “Yo,” he said.

“Did you just arrive from work?” Jack asked, ushering Jamie in and closing the door behind them.

“No, I was told that my presentation looked great, I looked terrible, and for god’s sake go home, everything else can wait. I just woke up from two hours of sleep. OHAI it’s a mini-Laurens! James, but called Jamie, right? I have a long-lost tragically separated brother myself, you know. James but called Jim. Funny. The names. Not the tragical separation. Don’t look sad. We Skype, and we’re planning a visit in a bit.’

“How much sleep did you get last night? Come into the kitchen with me, Jamie, we’ll see if there’s something you’d like to eat. If not, we can order in.” Jack looked mildly concerned about his disheveled significant other babbling, but not surprised or alarmed. Jamie wasn’t going to comment until he had his bearings.

“Three, I think.”

“Damn, Alexander, you need to do something about this trend.” Jack opened the fridge and gestured. “Rummage and stuff. I gotta give a doofus a hug.”

Doofus Alexander clung to Jack and kissed his cheek. “I’m trying. It’s all great, there’s just so much of it."

Jack tidied Alexander's hair. “I know.”

“I feel like a bad dad and partner, making Eliza do all the work.”

“Wait, what?” Jamie said aloud, closing the fridge so he could stare without wasting electricity.

They didn’t notice him. Jack rubbed his...something’s...back. “You spend lots of time with Philip on weekends. Eliza’s deliberately being a stay-at-home-mom partly because her career’s easy for her to step back into but yours has just started. She knows Philip’s sleep inconsistencies and your sleep inabilities are a terrible combination. She thanked us for regularly making sure you get a bit of rest before going the rest of the way home. We're all proud of our Entry Level Hire of the Treasury.”

“Thanks, QP. I just forgot to introduce myself properly, whelp.” He lurched out of Jack’s arms and towards Jamie. “Alexander Hamilton. My name is Alexander Hamilton. Yes. John’s important to me and therefore so are you, but I do have a fiance and son to get back to...what’s wrong?”

Jamie limply shook Alexander’s hand. “I, uh, I thought YOU were his boyfriend.”

“Don’t be embarrassed. We get that a lot. I introduced him and his boyfriend, though. I knew I could only trust them with each other.” Alexander gave his hand a final squeeze and then he turned to Jack, reaching out beseechingly. “Help me get sheveled, my perfect cinnamon roll, because I don’t want people in the Metro car to think I’m on something rather than just simultaneously exhausted and manic, while also thrilled that my presentation on alcohol taxation and its disproportionate effects on certain states was a winner, total chicka-plow, which is now a word. Because that is my current status."

“Mmhm. Jamie, you still like chili? It’s vegetarian chili, hope that’s okay. Middle shelf, box with pink lid. Alexander, what did you do to this poor buckle?”

***

Jack said he'd eat later. However, he sat with Jamie and told him about how Missy got the chili recipe from a coworker's wife, then how that coworker happened to run a Dungeons and Dragons game both he and Missy were a part of, and who the other team members were. Jamie spaced out a few times, but not because it was boring, just that he was dealing with a lot of new stuff and this was pretty intricate.

"I mean, it's fun, and sort of a controlled social thing that's not too intimidating, and it's been helping her and me bond, you know? Also, it's satisfying to think about on how many levels our hobby would upset our father. And our old pastor."

Jamie snickered with his mouth full, but swallowed before saying, "I've converted to the Unitarian Universalists. You're the first family member I've told. And sometimes I wear pink. Or sniffle over sentimental movies. Rebellion is not my only motivation, but, uh, maybe I'll get a tattoo next."

"Make sure it's well-thought out. I contemplated mine for over a year. I hope your new church works out for you." Jack took out his phone and fiddled with it, but he looked up at Jamie often, as if he were looking at notes for a speech and his little brother was the sole audience. "I'm glad your rebellion involves being okay with, you know. Me."

"I'm okay with you being gay. Jury's out if I'm okay with you hiding from me for so long."

Jack's face didn't so much fall as plummet off a cliff. "Gonna clean up after Alexander, fix the bed," he muttered.

Now alone, Jamie sighed and put a round peppermint in his mouth, for variety. He'd spat out the Werther's before eating. The dishwasher intimidated him - new machines always did - so he washed everything by hand. Then he heard Jack chuckle and say something about 'Friedrich's' 'thirsty' comment fooling nobody.

When Jamie wandered over to the couch, curious, Jack said, "Friend's Instagram. Met up with some mutual friends in France and they're doing a series of eighteenth-century style poses in modern, mundane places. Juxtaposition. Sometimes they have hats. Do you want to see my tattoo?"

"Yeah, I do." Jamie took a seat as Jack peeled off his t-shirt and indicated the front of his left shoulder, where it met his chest. It was a scientific-quality illustration of a Southern softshell turtle, accompanied by the handwritten words: _everything necessary_." Jack's right shoulder was extensively scarred, but one thing at a time.

"The quotation is from my friend Lafayette from when he was keeping me alive until medical help came. He had to go back to France to fulfill is responsibilities as a literal member of the French nobility. It's in Alexander's handwriting, though. When I first met him he was on the floor writing multiple essays in color-coded crayon because he didn't have access to pens at the time. I got design advice from both Meriwether Lewis - you've heard of him? I remember you liked nature documentaries. Well, I'm his PA, and he told me this illustration I made as a kid was really good."

"That's awesome." Lewis had done the voiceovers for a recent documentary on the recovery of the bison from near-extinction, and Jamie had successfully kept Junior quietly drinking ginger ale while watching it in the den rather than Junior grimly raiding Dad's liquor cabinet and locking himself in Dad's office. The guy just sounded like he was nice, and maybe a little wistful. "He's, like, if you had Neil DeGrasse Tyson and David Attenborough and Bill Nye, maybe Jane Goodall, at a party, and they would all be asking him to make sketches for them on cocktail napkins."

Jack smiled wider than at any other point since Jamie arrived. "I'll have to tell him that. Maybe it will make him more agreeable about me taking a few days off. More tattoo backstory?"

"Please. You beat my former roommate's 'Chinese character because it's exotic but actually has the wrong translation' tattoo by a long shot."

"Anyway, the rest of the advice, mostly on placement, was from my old friend Martha, but I call her Martian, who Lafayette helped me get in touch with after we fell out over some stuff. She lives in England with her wife and their daughter and a family of eccentric novelists. Pierre was the one who recommended a place and set up the appointments. You might like him; he's about your age. Linguistics major. Vietnamese-French immigrant. Funny Instagram. His datefriend Chev negotiated a discount because they are pals with the artist. Lafayette's perfect wife Adrienne made me a mix to listen to during the process. And Ned took care of the skin as I recovered." There was a sound of a key turning in the lock and Jack perked up. "Speak of the angel and he appears."

Jack's boyfriend entered, put down his messenger bag, and raised an eyebrow. He looked remarkably like a taller, more serene Alexander. "If I didn't have so much faith in you, Johnny, I'd be more worried to find you lounging shirtless on a couch with a strange man."

Jamie was terrified that he might have just ruined Jack's massively, miraculously and wonderfully improved life, and protested, "I'm James Laurens, his brother, it's innocent, I can show you my driver's license -"

"Joking. Sorry to stress you out. He texted me that you'd be spending the night. Plus I really do trust him, even if it had been some stranger." The boyfriend approached and held out a hand to shake. "Eduardo Stevens. Call me Ned."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Alexander cameo, just had an Alexander cameo, he's not a big part of the story though, please don't hate, please don't haaaaaate
> 
> \- I enjoy how outlandish this AU sounds when John has to briefly describe significant portions of it to an outside POV.
> 
> \- This should all make sense if you're a complete newcomer, just with fewer in-jokes understood, but please do not hesitate to ask.
> 
> \- Really depressed rn, but can float above it briefly for a bit at a time and can also fake smile. That kind. Comments help, if you have spoons.


	4. (They confer)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is doing what I call "accordion-ing", which is that the amount of scenes and words to get from point A to point B keeps unexpectedly increasing, though unlike with Zeno's paradox we do eventually get to South Carolina. Well, we will.

_From: Martha Manning_

_To: Eduardo Stevens_

_Re: You knew closeted John..._

_You are best of boyfriends, I swear. I think it'd be good. Missy's gonna try to support him, but I know she's going to be brother-and-father wrangling, quite likely doctor-wrangling too, on a major scale. It'll be a load off her shoulders if someone else can focus on just John. You're much better suited to the belly of the beast that Alexander, from what I saw during my visit back to the States. He loves dear Earthling just as much in his own way but would probably end up killing or being killed by one of the Henrys._

_Sorry this is short. Think my boss may have just noticed me typing a personal email during a meeting. on sorghum prices. bleh._

_< 3 MM_

***

Jack put Missy on Skype on his laptop and placed “her” on the dining table while he and Ned ate their dinner. Jamie slowly ate his way through an orange, removing every scrap of membrane and dissecting the segments. He knew it looked weird, but it gave him a through-line to keep him grounded enough to follow the conversation.

“The good news is that Israel can take my shift for a week. He’s been looking for stuff to do while his leg heals. Most of his mail route is inaccessible to him at the moment.” Missy was also having dinner, and her roommate was flitting in and out of frame behind her.

“Isn’t he getting worker’s comp?” Jack asked. Then he turned to Ned and Jamie and explained, “Israel works for the Postal Service, but he used to work as a tech at Vernon on Sundays as his second job. His qualifications are less than a full-time tech’s, but it’s enough to substitute. He and his partner play D&D with us. His truck rolled over part of him four days ago.”

“He’s getting compensation and medical leave, yeah. And going to be assigned a new truck. It was their fault for not fixing the parking brake earlier. But Cato says he’s been really bored and antsy. So that aspect works. Plus I emailed my course instructor and she’s very sympathetic. We’ve worked out a plan so I can keep up.” Missy had managed to change her work schedule and could now take an evening class towards her Master’s, not just online, she’d told Jamie during one of their clandestine chats.

“Would you like me to go with you, John?” Ned asked quietly.

Jack went still for a moment. “What about work?”

“Dr. Pickering is generous when it comes to definition of family, and family emergency. Dr. Rush can wash his own damn lab coat.”

“It’s not gonna be fun.”

“If it was gonna be fun, you wouldn’t need me.”

“I can’t ask that of you.”

“You didn’t. I’m asking you. And indirectly, your siblings’ consent.”

“Fine by me,” Missy said.

Jamie nodded. His mouth was full of tang, with a hint of bitter, sweetness in their somewhere. Jack seemed calmer with Ned there, and that was well worth however much more freaked out Junior got. He selfishly hoped Dad would meet Ned, blow a gasket, and need to be sedated or something.

“Split a motel room?” Jack asked, looking at his own plate. Jamie decided not to tell Jack that his old bedroom had been repurposed for storing out-of-season decorations since three months after he was disinherited. Despite the fact that the Laurens family had a huge house with plenty of other storage space. Not that it would have super surprised Jack, but it would be harsh to outright say it.

“Sure. I’ll give Alexander instructions for looking after Cassette, Oleta, and the garden while we’re gone.”

There wasn’t time to ask what he meant by ‘the garden’ before Missy’s roommate leaned in. “Get those instructions to me, too, in case Alexander gets overwhelmed by all the million things he wants to do. I’ll borrow a key from someone.”

“Thanks, Peggy. Female Schuylers have blanket permission to let themselves into this apartment. Including Catherine. Rule made when Alexander lived here. Never repealed.” Ned nudged Jack, and Jack started eating again.

“Transportation?” Jamie asked, and they all got to work figuring it out. They eventually decided to leave sometime between eight and nine tomorrow, have lunch in Richmond, and get to Charleston in time to settle and decompress a bit before dinner. Junior knew that Jamie had gone to discuss details with a prospective donor. Nothing else.

“Let’s eat at a restaurant and invite Junior to come with us rather than eating at the house,” Missy suggested. “Ease into the….”

“Angst,” Jack said. Missy laughed.

Jamie and Jack would be in one car, Missy and Ned in the other, the argument being that the brothers deeply yearned to catch up as much as possible before stuff escalated, and Missy needed to fill Ned in on various backstory and how to be effective emotional support in the chaos. They would heed Jamie’s cautionary tale about how he got lost in North Carolina for an extra hour on the way here.

After dinner, Jack needed to pack. Ned looked at Jamie and said, “Going to my garden. Wanna see?”

It turned out to be an assortment of plant pots, some quite large, full of many different kinds of flowers, herbs and a few vegetables - all on the roof of the building. There was a plastic tub full of gardening tools that Ned opened up the moment they reached it. He took out a watering can and went to a nearby spigot - probably meant for hosing down the roof - to fill it up.

“It’s nice,” Jamie said. He was tired and low on adjectives.

“Thanks. Landlord’s accommodating. Got sunflowers, lavender, black-eyed Susans, rosemary, sage, oregano, cherry tomatoes, and Parisian carrots.” Ned stepped around the beach umbrella lying on its side, and started watering. “Most of these are favorites of bees. Not the last two. I’d elaborate, but I’m no longer allowed to talk about saving the bees except when explicitly asked.”

“You drone on?”

Ned grinned. “Exactly.”

“What’s the umbrella for?”

“Too much sun or rain. Some will be moved inside for winter, some will go dormant fine. You would have been, what, twelve last time you saw him?”

It was comforting to know that Jamie wasn’t the worst person here at segues. “Eleven.”

“Wow.”

The sun was setting, right on the very edge of Virginia. Jamie could see the Potomac and what might be the National Cathedral on the other side of it. Or maybe it was just a nice church. Now that he knew where his lost siblings were, he should make them show him around DC, some other time.

“The first memory I have of him, I must have been about four and a half, because by then I could grasp a ball again but I had trouble manipulating one.” At Ned’s curious look, Jamie explained, “Oh, right, he might not have told you. When I was three I was playing on a stone wall and fell on my head. Nearly died. Ambulance and surgery and years of treatment. I’m eighty to ninety percent these days, depending on yardstick.” 

“Glad you grew up well.” Ned found some dead leaves on one of his plants and delicately plucked them off. “Impressive. You were saying?”

“It was summer. Jack played softball every summer. He was a great pitcher, everyone said. He got home and I think I said I wish I could throw a ball, something like that. He washed his face, had some water, borrowed Junior’s old catcher’s mitt for me to use, and patiently, encouragingly played catch with me until we got called in for dinner. Dad…” the joy went out of Jamie’s voice. “Dad shouted at Jack for coming to dinner all filthy and still in his uniform.”

There was a pause.

“Let me show you how to adjust the temperature knobs in our bathroom for when you want to take a shower,” Ned said. “It’s wonky.”

Jamie ended up taking a shower, while the instructions were fresh in his mind. In his current state of turmoil and weariness (shot through with a thread of excitement), it was likely his short-term memory would short out and he’d need to ask multiple times, otherwise.

When he emerged, Ned and Jack were watching a documentary on coral reefs. Jack was curled on his side with his head in Ned’s lap. Ned was petting his hair with one hand and eating what looked like pomegranate seeds with the other.

Jack sat up when he heard Jamie’s be-slippered shuffling on the floor. (Jamie had slippers that made it look like he had giant cat feet, because it made him smile.) “Does this bother you?”

“I prefer less dramatic music in my documentaries, but otherwise I’m fine,” Jamie said.

“That’s not what I -”

“It’s nice seeing you being taken care of, Jack. I never saw that very often.”

Jamie always woke up a lot during the night, though only for a few minutes at a time. Nobody knew for sure whether this was his brain stuff or if it was a just quirk. Cassette and Oleta gently clattered their wheel sometimes, as they ran, but they were unobtrusive roommates as things went. He’d learned that they were once part of a healthy control group at Ned’s medical research lab, and that his friend Hester had named them.

When he got up to use the bathroom, he thought he might have heard some crying, interspersed with soothing Spanish, but there could have been a lot of explanations for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catherine = The Schuyler Mother


	5. Exuent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When we eventually get to interaction with Henry Laurens himself, I intend to be very indirect and sparing with any portrayal of emotional abuse. It'll be like how Mad Max: Fury Road is extensively about misogynistic violence but almost entirely hints at it rather than portraying it.

_ From: Martha Manning _

_ To: John Laurens _

_ Re: 7-8 HOURS _

_ Breathe. I know it’s harder than it was with you and I, but the principle’s the same. You don’t have to be serious or emotional every moment. You can talk about dumb stuff, too. That’s just as much part of rebuilding. _

_ Love, _

_ Martian _

***

Jamie woke to soft knocking on the door. “I need to feed the rats and you need to start getting ready. May I come in?”

“Yeah, thanks.” 

Ned entered, sipping from a travel mug. “John and I ate already. And went for a run. Gonna be sitting a lot. Missy’s roommate’s sister, who is also Alexander’s fiance’s sister, is here, fyi. Angelica.”

A quick change of clothes while hiding in the walk-in closet later, Jamie emerged into the common area and said hi. “Just gotta brush my teeth.”

“Good idea,” said Angelica, smiling. She had a canvas bag full of berries and a jar of local honey on the table text to her. She was sitting across from Jack, who kept jittering his leg up and down. Jamie could hear her talking while he was in the bathroom. “I always to the Saturday Farmer’s Market near here in the summer. It wasn’t any trouble.”

“Okay,” Jack mumbled.

“If I’m making you nervous, I can leave. I just thought…”

“Don’t go yet. It means a lot that you’re here.”

“It’s incredibly unofficial. I’m glad you and Dr. Suriyaren are a good fit.”

Jack said dryly,  “Yeah, there are at least five reasons that you should never be my therapist again. Was it Eliza?”

“And Peggy. I wanted to see how you were, show I care.”

“You’ve succeeded.”

“Feel free to unofficially text or call.”

“Thanks.”

“He’s adorable, by the way. Mini-you, except the nose.”

“ANGELICA. NO.”

Angelica laughed. “As long as I can get a rise out of you, I’m not too worried. You’ve got a trip and I’ve got a husband who wants to compare carpet samples with me. He needs help fending off our kid, who likes eating carpet samples.”

“Can we hug?”

“I’d love to. I’ll say goodbye to your brother before I go.”

***

Jack finally got through to his employer just as they were outside and all set to go.  “Lewis, how about you don’t chastise me for late notice and I don’t ask you why you weren’t picking up all last night. I’m happy for you, but...you read the email? Okay, just wanted to check. I can still format stuff in your inbox, handle everyday correspondence, proofread, and finish up your big speech. Just, like, not my usual pace. Thanks. Thanks. Take care. You sound pretty dang cheerful. Don’t tell me why.”

“Stop trying to heft things on that shoulder,” Ned tsked, grabbing Jack’s luggage and putting it in the car.”

Part of that conversation made more sense when Jack spent much of the ride scribbling drafts - which he read bits of out loud from time to time - of a speech in which Meriwether Lewis publicly came out as dyslexic. This led to a pleasant conversation about Jamie’s interest in teaching children with learning disabilities, too.

Jack took the wheel twice so that Jamie could take naps in the backseat. They’d independently come to be fans of some of the same tv and music, even a few books. He encouraged Jamie to brag about his accomplishments over the years, pulled stories from him, looked at him like he was an utter miracle, and Jamie didn’t need the hard candy, and he ate lunch with a good appetite.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard.

***

This was going to be hard.

They arrived at the motel where Ned and Jack would be staying. Those two put their stuff away, everyone tidied up, and they went to face The House, in Jamie’s car.

They got within sight of The House.

His big brother, his healed brother, his friend-having, beloved, flesh-and-blood, no-longer-vague-memory brother, his smart and talented, snarky, earnest brother, had a panic attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will never tire of making jokes about John Church being a good person and husband but not a lot of fun. So far I've stated that my version is overinvested in his coin collection, considers board games at home a thrilling date, that his Received Pronunciation English accent is "the most exciting thing about him", and he prefers bland food. (I don't necessarily think that these things make you boring, just playing on stereotypes.) Even Eliza made a crack about how he might faint when faced with excessive creativity, though she felt guilty immediately. It's like the reverse of The Most Interesting Man in the World. 
> 
> Did you know that Eliza and Angelica both had firstborns named Philip, and they also had a brother named Philip, and they were all named after their father Philip? I hope? I didn't try to see how far the Philip chain went, for that way madness lies. And of course the youngest Hamilton child was also named Philip, in honor of his late brother Philip.


	6. alarum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should be doing other things, but upset and unwell, so wrote this little bit of emotional h/c to comfort myself. 
> 
> The emotional hurt is on the brief-but-intense side.

Jamie stopped the car the moment Jack said, “I can’t.” He and Missy - who was in the passenger seat - twisted around to see what was going on behind them.

Jack was clutching Ned’s hand so hard that it must have hurt, and staring out the window at The House. “Can’t.” His voice was strained, tight, barely making it through whatever constrictions were in the way.

Ned put his free hand on Jack’s jittering leg. “You don’t have to. Say the word, we’ll go home. Or go somewhere else. Want to go to Atlanta? There’s a huge aquarium in Atlanta. Rehabilitated whale sharks, I think. We could go down to Florida. Everglades. Cape Canaveral. Just you and me, if you want.”

“You can donate remotely, John. Nobody will think less of you,” Missy put it.

Jamie didn’t know what to say. His big brother was shivering and still at the same time.

“I can’t. He said.”

Missy subtly clenched her jaw. “Who?”

Jack was still looking out the window instead of at any of them. He said in a voice that didn’t sound like his, _“Collect your things and go. If you come back within sight of this house, I will make sure you are arrested for trespassing. If you ever speak to any of your siblings, if I hear of absolutely any contact, I will have your credit rating destroyed. I will have you banned from every establishment I have the slightest amount of influence with. I will do everything in my power to make you regret it. Leave them alone and I’ll leave you be. Don’t you dare darken this door again.”_

Undoing her seatbelt like the car was being flooded, Missy got out and opened the door closest to Jack. She said in a soft, even tone, “Nothing bad’s gonna happen because we found you, Jackaroo. We won’t let it happen. I won’t let it happen. All he is now is a bitter, sick old man, in more than one sense of the word. You have a whole squadron of people who love you and will never, ever, ever abandon you."

Jack took a few shuddering breaths and nodded. His eyes were damp but he wasn’t crying. He let go of Ned’s hand, but turned and buried his face in Ned’s chest, breaths still shuddering, but slower and slower.

“Maybe I should just tell Junior that it didn’t work out. You liked Richmond, right? You wished we could have stayed longer than lunch? You guys could go enjoy Richmond.” Jamie wanted nicotine badly enough right now that he would have resorted to sexual favors for a consequence-free tin of his preferred brand, or even buy it it in disgusting chewing gum form. He might have some patches left in his room. Backsliding shmacksliding.

“Some other time,” Jack said, emerging with a pasted-on smile.

“How about you two go for a ten-minute walk? Jamie and I can sit and chat.” Missy locked eyes with Ned. Ned nodded.

“Okay.” Jack let himself be led by the hand. Ned interlaced their fingers and steered them away from The House.

Missy got back into the passenger seat and buried her face in her hands. “I didn’t know the exact words.”

“That’s why he didn’t...”

“Uh huh.”

“I feel like an enormous jerk now.”

“Why?”

“I sniped at him yesterday about him abandoning me.”

“He doesn’t blame you.” Missy took a sip of water.

“I’m going to swim tonight. Lots and lots.”

“Oh, that’s right, there’s a pool.”

Cicadas buzzed.

“Mary Eleanor runs a local radio station these days. You could drop by and see her.” Jamie knew she and Missy had been close. It was all he had to offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized that even if I can't wedge Mary Eleanor in as a Laurens sibling, she can still exist in this AU in another capacity, just like with historical Edward Stevens' second wife, Hester. I've been wanting Missy to reconnect with an old friend anyway, because Missy deserves sweet, simple, nice things.


	7. (Enter Junior)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed that all the chapter titles are stage directions. Just for fun, see if you can guess what play Martian is going to compare this whole situation to in her next Advice Email.

The couple returned twelve minutes later. Jack seemed steadier. “I’ve asked Ned to hang back unless I ask him to join us inside, so we don’t spook Junior right away. More than we already will, I mean.”

“If you want to wander around the grounds, Ned, we’ve got some nice trees, an ornamental pond, a small natural creek nearby that’s usually got frogs and turtles…” When Ned nodded, Jamie pulled out his wallet and a pen. “I’ll give you my card in case security approaches you with questions. They got more rigorous after Dad got some death threats a few years ago.”

“Knew you guys grew up with money, but damn,” Ned teased Jack, putting an arm around his waist.

Missy sighed. “That’s why I’m still working on picking up after myself. Spoiled.”

“The Army beats tidiness into you,” Jack added with a slight smile. “Hey, he has some idea that you’re coming home around this time and might have company, right?”

Jamie made an affirmative noise. He had already said that and confirmed it twice, but he knew this was a request for reassurance rather than a desire for new information. He finished filling out the card. Their security guys - and one lady per shift, in case a woman needed to be patted down (Dad believed in propriety) - all understood Jamie’s idiosyncratic permission slip system. He found it less stressful and embarrassing.

The card said, “EDUARDO ‘NED’ STEVENS is a guest of James Laurens. Allow UNRESTRICTED access to the Laurens household, excluding NOTHING.” Then the date and Jamie’s signature. He handed it over. “Be ready to show Photo ID, too. If you see a guy dressed in brown with a big bald spot puttering around, that’s Mr. Mendel, the head gardener. He’ll be your best friend if you ask about the weird peas.”

“The weird peas?” Ned asked, amused. He still had an arm around Jack.

“Just say you’re my friend, don’t elaborate.” Not only did they need to keep Jack’s presence need-to-know, but Mr. Mendel was very conservatively Catholic - he would still be kind to Ned if he knew Ned was Jack’s boyfriend, but super uncomfortable. There was going to be enough discomfort going around this evening. 

They all got back into the car and drove the last few minutes. Ned hugged Missy as well as Jack, then started off in the direction of the stone fountain. 

“If things really fall apart, you can come stay with Ned and me tonight,” Jack offered as they made their way to the side door, which was for friends, family, and professionals. The back door was for hired help. Nobody had used the front door since Dad got really sick and stepped down from being Mayor. “You and I can share the bed with some rolled-up blankets as a divider, like we used to when we were kids at Myrtle Beach, and Ned says he doesn’t mind sleeping in the armchair.”

Jamie was several steps ahead of them by this point. He stopped and turned around. “I’ll lock Junior in his stupid room if he tries to keep you out.” 

“That’s sweet of you guys, but Alexander helped me figure out another option,” Missy said, walking like her shoes were doubling in weight every step. Fibonacci shoes.

“Alexander?” Jack asked. But then the door opened.

Junior stood there, holding the door open. His face was blank. Everyone froze for a long, horrible less-than-thirty-seconds. Then he said, “Jamie. Martha. John.” Pleasantly.

“Hi,” Missy said.

“I can explain,” Jack said.

“It’s a nice evening. Let’s go sit on the screened-in porch. There are screens now, that’s new to you, isn’t it? Ice tea? Lemonade? Something stronger?”

A few minutes later, Jamie had a glass of lemonade and was sitting in a wicker chair on the porch, and he couldn’t quite remember how he got from one point to the other. His brain was bad at staying calm and absorbing new memories at the same time. 

Junior was talking. Every single thing he said, every sentence, was in the same faux-bubbly newscaster tone.

“...It’s going to be a cool night, so if you’re planning to stay in town long I hope you packed accordingly. Let’s see. We had a termite problem but that’s been dealt with. Mr. Mendel relocated a beehive that he found in the toolshed and I believe he transplanted it to his own apiary. Our usual cook’s on maternity leave, but her replacement is pretty good. I’m hoping that things will be sufficiently settled by the time the semester starts again so I can go back to school. Do you know I’m in law school? You might have missed it. So let’s get this over with and you tell me how much flesh you’re hoping to strip from Dad’s carcass, you pair of vultures?”

Jamie choked on an ice cube. “WHAT THE FUCK?” 

Junior shot him a look. “Language. What ever will those elementary school tots say.”

“If you’d let us get a word in edgewise, Jack’s the bone marrow match,” Missy said, putting her drink down on the rattan table.

“What are you here for, then?” Junior took a long gulp of his drink.

“To support him, to see if I can help, to hang out with Jamie, and to see if I can reconnect with you.”

“Wouldn't it be funny if that was true?” Junior cocked his head at Jack. “You’re pretty quiet. Assuming you two aren’t pulling one over on Jamie, who is entirely too trusting for my comfort -”

“Hey!”

“Am I supposed to believe you’re planning on giving our father this donation out of the goodness of your heart?”

Jack didn’t have a glass of anything. He must have declined one. He sat up straighter in his seat. “I’m donating because it’s the decent thing to do. I’m letting him know it’s me because there’s a conversation we need to have. I don’t want any of his money. Not a single penny.”

“Dad lied to us about why Jack left,” Missy said. “He hasn’t committed any crimes.”

Junior stared at Jack expectantly. Jack cleared his throat. “I told him I was gay. Am gay. He told me to pack up my things and never come back or contact any of you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Really.” Junior snickered. “You certainly know how to tug at our little bro’s heartstrings. Dad’s certainly not the most bleeding-heart towards homosexuals, but even if I believed YOU are…”

“Why’s that such a bizarre idea?” Missy asked, more gently than Jamie might have anticipated. Then he remembered what her job was. Who she had to deal with all the time. 

“I grew up with you, Jack! I know you! And I know Dad. Dad always wants what’s best for us. He knows what’s best for us. Even if we can’t see it at the time.”

“Does the parrot want a cracker?” Jamie asked. Mm, barely-sugared lemonade, his favorite. Like sarcastic water. 

“Don’t push it, kiddo.” Which was rich, considering their age difference was two years.

Jack got out his phone and sent a quick text.

“Um, excuse me? Aren’t we talking? Aren’t we here to reconnect?”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Missy said, still gentle in tone. “You’re here to try to hold your worldview together and refuse to listen to people who sincerely care for you, because you’re hurt and defending yourself.”

“Ah yes, you care for me so much that I never heard anything from you until fifteen minutes ago.” 

(Had it been fifteen minutes? Had Jamie missed ten? That would be the worst it had been in years, though maybe it was exacerbated by the nicotine withdrawal. Or maybe he needed to make an appointment with his old neurologist.)

Of course, Jamie thought so hard about how he’d missed a chunk of the conversation that he missed another chunk of it, though this was not the scary time-loss thing. It was just zoning out. He was dimly aware that there had been yelling and sundry.

Now Ned was here, his hands stained with black and purple, his left hand a cup full of wild blackberries. “There’s an overgrown patch, hard to see. Got different berries and I think what might be muscadine grapes? Not completely wild. Feral. If someone cleaned it up, there’d be more. If I didn’t pick these today they’d be overripe tomorrow. Hope that’s all right. Hi, my name’s Ned, nice to meet you. Could I have a bag or bowl or something?” 

“That’s Mami’s garden,” Missy whispered, and Jamie felt like he knew the full import of that, but it was just out of his grasp. She finished her glass of water and let Ned pour his foraging into it. 

Jack got to his feet, and he kissed his boyfriend in a way that made Jamie irrationally angry at himself for never having kissed any of his girlfriends like that. That tenderly. Gratefully. Ned hummed and kissed back. Then Jack looked at Junior and said, “Hey, this one’s mine.”

In the eye of a hurricane, there is quiet. For just a moment.

Junior threw his glass onto the floor. Not dropped. Threw. “Get out of my house.”

“It’s Dad’s house, and if he dropped dead this second it’d be Missy’s house -” Jamie began.

Missy interrupted him. “Talk less.”

“Get out of THIS house!”

“Those two will go, but I’m fully intending on staying in one of the many guest rooms. In a different wing of the house if you want.”

Junior glared at Missy, but she stared evenly right back at him. He receded a little. “Fine, I’ll be civil to you. Dad’s not going to listen to disciplined dissidents. That makes a difference. This kid is out.” And he stormed out, though technically it was storming in, heading for what Jamie hoped was his own room. What Jamie hoped was Junior’s room and not Dad’s study, with its ever-emptying liquor cabinet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Monk/father of genetics Gregor Mendel loved his bees as much as he loved his peas, referring to them as "dear little creatures."


	8. Downstage Left

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Accordion-ing! Thank you for comments, always. If I don't reply, it's for lack of spoons, not lack of delight and gratitude. I read them over and over.
> 
> TW:  
> \- Implied past eating disorder  
> \- Mention of past ableism  
> 

Yes, it was Dad’s house. Yes, if he dropped dead this second, it would be Missy’s house, because the oldest child included in the will was the one who'd get it, and unlike Jack she hadn't been removed. Yes, the staff had been instructed to listen to H.L. Junior if H.L. Senior was unavailable.

However.

By the time Jamie was twelve, he lived in a world with no mother. He could remember his mother’s face, it was real, and as long as he was alive he never wanted to feel so helpless.For all intents and purposes he had only one brother, who was very busy, and usually far away, and for murky reasons seemed to be less his buddy every day. He had one sister, who was very busy, and usually far away, and for reasons he only understood in hindsight always seemed to have an upset stomach. And he had a father, who was very busy, and sometimes not around, and for reasons that were vague and guilt-inducing Jamie kind of preferred when he wasn’t.

By then he was in regular school, but all the kids knew he hadn’t always been. Didn’t help that Dad had mentioned him in some campaign speeches when he was little. It wasn’t until college in another state that Jamie became something other than “Henry Laurens’ brain-damaged son”. That was when he’d learned what it was really like to have unconditional friends.

So from twelve to eighteen, to survive, Jamie slowly started wrapping all the household staff around his little finger. It wasn’t hard. He was cute, sad, amiable, and so brave, that poor child.

Everything that didn’t directly contradict something one of the Henrys said, someone would do for Jamie. Some things that directly contradicted? Well, maybe, if they could get away with it. If Jamie asked nicely.

Jamie felt helpless when it came to a lot about this situation, but he realized what he could do, and he felt his thoughts knitting back together. 

“I’m gonna talk to a few people for less than an hour, and then I’ll go to dinner with y'all, okay? How about you discuss where to go? Or maybe go for a stroll? If you go for a stroll, I’ll text you if I can’t find you.”

The Virginia group agreed. Jamie got to work. 

He sought out someone to open up the guest room closest to his own bedroom, to dust it and put in clean sheets, tuck the pillows in new cases, shake out the curtains, wipe the mirror, check to see if the chair was sound and strong. Bring in a little desk if there wasn’t one already, and put it near an outlet. Make sure a nearby bathroom was clean, with towels and mats and toiletries. Thank you.

He located the temporary replacement cook, and told her that she may or may not be called upon to provide vegetarian entrees at some point this week, just a heads-up. 

He found the head housekeeper, who’d worked for them since he was eight. He said he knew she had tomorrow off, but please, please, check on Junior sometime tonight, make sure he’s okay. Make him go to bed. He offered her the equivalent overtime pay. Cash. She put a hand on his arm and said she’d do it for free, and he couldn’t keep looking at her.

He caught up with Mr. Mendel, who’d worked for them since he was two, though these days it was part-time. Jamie was allowed to call him Greg now that he was a grownup, but he couldn’t get used to it.

The maintenance crew came once a week at most, to do things like mow vast lawns and sweep leaves out of the pool. His presence was less precise in timing, but much more common. On summer evenings, before sunset, Mr. Mendel could reliably be found on the grounds, often doing something improbable.

This time he was kneeling down and feeding milk to a pumpkin. “It’ll be much bigger, come Thanksgiving. Make a nice centerpiece. Not good for jack-o-lanterns, this type. I’m experimenting throughout this patch to see whether skim, low-fat, or full gets the best results. There’s a control with just water, of course.”

Jamie was pretty sure such experiments had been done by other people, but he supposed not with specifically Laurens pumpkins. “My ex-girlfriend taught me how to make really good spiced pepitas, if someone saves the seeds for me.”

“I’ll tell ‘em when the time comes. What can I do for you?”

“What’s the story of the overgrown wild fruit patch near the edge of the private gardens?”

The gardener got to his feet. “The grove around the creek used to be bigger. When your father first expanded the property to include it, your mother didn’t want the berry patch and the grapevine on that little tree - bigger now, of course - to be destroyed. She had it saved as an island of what had been. She loved it. You used to love picking the fruit. When she died, I was told to leave it alone. So were your older siblings. This isn’t the first time I’ve told you, but when you get upset you don’t hang onto things very well.” 

“No, I don’t,” Jamie said. He realized he was sniffling into wrinkled brown overalls and being hugged. When did that happen?

“At the risk of messing with your head, I’d forgotten that Jack and Missy have Elena’s nose,” Mr. Mendel said, patting Jamie’s back. “You all have her earlobes. It’s fascinating. Don’t be startled. I saw them wandering around. Don’t think they saw me. Does my heart good to see her so healthy-looking. None of your direct ancestors are as naturally thin as she was back then.”

Jamie took a step back and a few deep breaths. “Did you see anyone with them?”

“Oh yes. Holding hands with Jack. We - us longtimers at this house - all had an idea, champ, don’t panic. The explanation your father gave made no sense. Whatever your brother’s choices, it was harsh. His own flesh and blood. And to lie like that, and to his other children, to keep himself looking good to his supporters…I’m getting in too deep. We didn’t have this conversation, y’hear?”

“No problem. Well, if you see that guy, his name’s Ned, and he’s a really good gardener, and whatever you might see him do, it’ll be with permission from one of us. Okay?” Jamie would wait and see which way the wind would blow, but he had some idea of where it might.

Mr. Mendel nodded. “Elena would have welcomed someone who made Jack smile again, and it’s her garden. Make sure he knows not to try to change its nature, just help it grow healthy.”

“Jack’s here to be Dad’s donor.”

His expression went soft. “As I said. The explanation your father gave made no sense. Boy loves his family. Run along and get some supper. I need to try the two percent milk next.”

Jamie started walking away, but he turned and called, “Hey, how are the peas?”

Mr. Mendel laughed. “Surprising!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GARDENING SYMBOLISM 
> 
> Her real name was Eleanor, not Elena, but as with Edward -> Eduardo I've done a slight etymological shift to match the racebending.
> 
> If I were being linear in adapting historical figures, "Greg" Mendel should be much younger than the Laurens kids, but as long as they fit in my guiding timeframe (more or less), I reserve the right to cut and paste. Jamie needed a person like him in his life. Also, writing Mendel as an avuncular and quirky amateur botanist is fun.
> 
> I have several relatives who believe that "practicing homosexuality" is a sin, but also that denying love and compassion to family - especially your own children - is a far greater sin. I'm out to a few of them and we carefully tiptoe around it while maintaining a relationship. Acceptance is on a spectrum, too. 
> 
> Next chapter, I will reveal what famous play Martian thinks resembles this situation.


	9. Upstage Right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A light touch of body policing ahead.
> 
> Ah, the things I will do to avoid grading assignments.

_From: Martha Manning_

_To: John Laurens_

_Re: went to see Junior_

 

_I checked my email the second I got up. I’m sorry to hear Junior’s behaving like such a dick. It sounds like he might have some layers, though. Don’t break your heart trying to make him come around, but don’t give up on him just yet. Glad Jamie’s being an A+ brave little toaster._

_Remember when I invited you to go watch my friend play Maggie in_ Cat on a Hot Tin Roof _? Seriously, you Laurenses have got the injured gay eldest son, the Daddy’s Boy younger son who does everything right but feels overlooked, rich dying father who stresses everyone out, fighting over money, alcoholism, mind games, and of course a clever and frustrated woman who’s trying to negotiate it all. Just move you guys from SC to Mississippi and the remake writes itself. Now I cannot throw the notion away._

_Except, Earthling, you’ve got Ned and Jamie. You’re pure of intent. You’re not here for the money. That’ll make the difference in the end._

_Jane’s done in the bathroom. Gotta go. I love you so much._

_Martian_

 

***

During dinner at a friendly comfort food place, Ned and Jamie talked and talked - medicinal herbs, Paralympics swimming, Jamie’s first experiences as a teaching assistant to fulfill his major requirements, Ned’s recent green light from Dr. Kuhn to incorporate his current work into his Ph.D thesis, which of the Law and Order TV offshoots were the best -  anything to keep Jamie’s siblings from crumbling.

Missy and Jack said almost nothing. They split a slab of chess pie after both consuming a level of stereotypical Southern food that would have been hilarious if it hadn’t been so bittersweet, though Jack had mac and cheese where Missy had fried catfish. Ned had never eaten collard greens before, and pronounced them acceptable.

As they were waiting for the bill - split four ways - Ned said, “There are going to be other times it won’t be appropriate for me to be by John’s side. I have work, but I’ll need something stress-relieving. Tangible. Would it be okay if I cleared up that semi-wild garden? Main problem’s kudzu.”

“The invasive vine?” Jamie asked.

“Yeah.”

Everyone was fine with that. Dad had forbidden the kids touching it, or someone being hired to tend it. He’d never said a word about an outside volunteer. Missy got misty-eyed.

Jamie drove them to the motel first, to drop off the guys. In the parking lot, he kept reviving the conversation because he wasn’t ready to let them out of the car.

Eventually Ned turned to Jack and said, “You know, your accent’s been slipping.”

“What, really?”

“Mmhm. Missy too, but more obvious with you. Mostly vowels. When you said you wanted more ‘ahce’ for your water…”

“Oh man. Now I’m gonna obsess over it.”

“Tiny bit hot.”

“What?”

“Just for a change, you know, like playing dress-up.”

“Goodnight!” Missy said loudly.

 

***

 

On the way to The House, just the two of them, Jamie asked, “When did you find out that Jack’s gay? Did he tell you right away?”

Missy stared out the window. “He never told me. It came up during group therapy, and I heard about it secondhand.”

“Must have thrown him for a loop to see his sister working at the place where he was getting himself together.”

“He didn’t recognize me. He was there a whole month. Never recognized me until I told him.” Her voice was flat.

There are moments that the words don’t reach. Jamie drove them the rest of the way in silence.

 

***

Missy got settled into her temporary room just fine. Jamie learned that Junior had passed out. He told the housekeeper to go home, and that he’d deal with it.

After some consideration of the scene, Jamie rinsed out the whiskey bottle and put it with the rest of the empty bottles he was collecting in case they could be used as visual aids for an intervention one day. He put the glass in the kitchen, because that’s the sort of thing that endears you to the staff when you’re no longer a sad, cute kid. He didn’t try to get Junior off the floor, but he put him in the recovery position because it looked like he’d had more than usual for one night. (Sometimes he fantasized about getting rid of every drop before Junior drank it, but he was afraid of being tattled on.) He put a blanket over him, and left him a bottle of water and a note saying, “Gonna visit Dad at 9 AM. You can come along, but we won’t wait up.”

Then Jamie went swimming. Not too much, just twenty-five laps. Just so he could sleep after, so he could stop thinking about tobacco and brothers.

***

Jamie got up a little later than planned.

Junior was at breakfast, wearing sunglasses and drinking separate glasses/cups of orange juice, ginger ale, and coffee. He'd eaten a few bites of dry toast. Sunday breakfasts were simple because all the staff, except for security, had the day off.

Missy was sitting across from him, wonder of wonders, and she was eating a fruit salad with lots of familiar-looking blackberries. “Morning. There’s more in the kitchen. Ned also found huckleberries, but I’m not so into those. We gave him a bucket and Mr. Mendel left the gardening shed unlocked so he could get tools. He’s trying to get as much done as he can before the sun gets too high.”

Junior muttered something indecipherable.

Except Missy could decipher it, apparently. “No, he won’t come with us to the hospital. You don’t have to interact with him if you don’t want to. Make sure you pee before we go.”

“Where’s Jack?” Jamie asked on his way to the kitchen.

“He’s on the phone with Alexander.”

Junior muttered some more, but at least he was docile.

 

***

Jamie and Junior went into the hospital room first - the nicest, most private room money could buy in the best hospital in the area. Junior visited frequently. Jamie had shown up a few times. Dad didn’t yell at him every time.

He seemed smaller these days, and he was hooked up to a bunch of drips and monitors, so wasn’t like he could have gotten up to do anything. Words can cut, though, and Jamie found himself tensing even as he came in.

“How are you feeling this warm Sunday, Dad?” Junior had ditched the sunglasses, even though his entire being was one giant wince. Dad’s vision wasn’t good enough to notice his son’s bloodshot eyes.

“Not at my best, son, but it’s good to see both of you.” He was starting off in a pleasant mood, at least.

“Jamie managed to track down what might turn out to be a suitable donor,” Junior said, taking the one chair at the side of the bed. Jamie was happy to let him have it.

“Did you now? I’m glad you took what I said seriously.”

Jamie saw no connection between an extended lecture on not embarrassing or disappointing his father and making efforts to keep him from dying, as one should for a fellow human being if one can. He savored a few seconds of approval before the inevitable crash. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this, but Missy left me a way to contact her in the case of an emergency. She refused to divulge her location, no matter how much I begged, and I worried that if I told anyone she’d change her contact info and I’d lose that lifeline. So I told her about this, and she answered.”

Missy entered then. Dad gasped and pressed the button to make the mattress go partly upright. “Martha! You’ve come back.”

“I couldn’t say no,” Missy said, but she stayed near the far wall.

“Of course you couldn’t. Of course you couldn’t, honey. Our arguments got a bit blown out of proportion, didn’t they? I’m sorry I scared you off, honey, I am. I’ve just wanted you to come home. Glad to see you in one piece. You’re welcome back home if you want, you know, always. Or if you want your own place. Young ladies like a bit of independence. We could find you somewhere close by. Do you have a job? Whatever it is, I’ll find you a better one, nearer to here. You’re a smart girl, always have been. All your things are safely in storage. Your clothes won’t fit you these days, clearly, but some of them can be altered, and I’m sure when you’re not under so much stress of having to fend for yourself those pounds’ll just melt back off -”

Missy made a nearly inaudible hiss. Jamie’s fist clenched, because on that car ride Jack had told him that Missy was still struggling with her eating disorder, even though she was in a healthy range now and hadn't purged for a long time.

Dad was oblivious. “I should have known you’d come back when Daddy really needed you. If this was how the Lord intended for me to have my daughter back, then I am willing to accept the price -”

“Just a second,” Missy interrupted. Yes, she’d interrupted their father, who did a double-take at the phenomenon. “Jamie got in contact with me, and I did the test like he asked, and I wasn’t a match. So I found someone else, who is a match. Didn’t want to spring everything on you at once. Slightly reduce the risk of you getting a heart attack on top of everything else.”

Jack entered the room.

“This wasn’t my idea,” Junior said, because throwing siblings under the bus was such a fun pastime.

“Is this a joke?” Dad asked through gritted teeth.

“We never had matching senses of humor, Father,” Jack said calmly, while his hands trembled.

“You’re. Not. My. Son.”

“We never had matching senses of humor, Mr. Laurens. It’s not a joke. Junior’s skeptical too, so I’m happy for any doctors you trust to give me their own test if it’d make you feel better.”

“He didn’t disobey you, Dad, I’m the one who found him,” Missy said. She inched closer to Jack, as if to catch him if he collapsed.

“Don’t talk to me about disobedience.”

Jack’s posture had gone ramrod-straight. “Refusal to try gay-conversion therapy isn’t an act of defiance, it’s an act of self-preservation.”

A nurse, or maybe doctor, Jamie didn’t know, poked her head in. “Is everything alright in here?”

“Everything’s fine,” Dad said quickly. She didn’t look totally convinced, but she left. “What are you trying to gain by virtue of your position? Though virtue’s not the word I’d use in this situation.”

“Being a better person than you are.”

Junior glared at Jack. “Explain.”

John stripped off his t-shirt and handed it to Missy. He pointed at his right shoulder. “The Army contacted Mr. Laurens here when the base where I was stationed in Afghanistan was bombed. The ceiling fell on me and a fistful of shrapnel embedded itself in it. They said they’d tried to get in touch with my father, but only located a Henry Laurens who claimed to have only three children, none named John. I note mayoral candidate Laurens' repeated platitudes about supporting our troops. This scar, on the other hand, is from when I put a gun in my mouth but my friend tackled me, so the shot hit myself in the very same shoulder, back Stateside. It was touch and go whether I might die of blood loss. My friend ferreted out Mr. Laurens’ number and begged him to come see his son. Didn’t he talk about how important it is to support the depressed and suicidal, particularly veterans, in multiple interviews?”

Dad started yelling. Jamie tuned it out about two words in, but he could still hear his siblings, because they were relevant. 

“Did you just copy Sam’s shock-and-awe scar-reveal tactics?” Missy whispered.

“Yes,” Jack whispered back.

"He doesn't deny any of it," Junior mumbled, staring at the floor, looking like he might cry or throw up or both.

Jack let their father run out of steam before saying, “I’m doing unto you as I wish you had done unto me. Are you going to accept it?”

More yelling, but it was wheezy and tired.

“Oh sweet Jesus. Swallow your pride and get the bone marrow, it's not worth your life," Junior said. Then he shrugged at all of them, perhaps at his entire existence, and put his sunglasses back on.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudzu: The Vine that Ate the South
> 
> I didn't set out to make this story Tennessee Williams-esque, but by chapter 5 I started noticing parallels, haha.
> 
> Let's not lose sight of the fact that regardless of how he's often portrayed in fic, the real Henry Laurens Sr. had an overall positive relationship with his children. There were some tensions with John, but it was just one part of a much bigger connection. Thank you to Mercumeo for inspiring me to point that out as a reminder.


	10. (Gestures)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that the real Henry Laurens was a much better father than he is in this AU. I made a note to that effect last chapter, but it was awhile after I posted it, so the people who jumped on the update right way may not have seen it. :)

_From: Alexander Hamilton_

_To: John Laurens_

_re: Repeat test, then full physical, and Ned got stung by a wasp_

_Shit, man, that's not a fun day even without the angsty family stuff. And Ned's scared of bugs, too._

_Flipper's is doing ok, I am told. Am assuming primary responsibility for Flipflop on Friday evenings through Sunday evenings, but sometimes I have to consult with Eliza because she's been around babies more and knows when not to panic. She said newborns projectile vomit sometimes and it doesn't mean I should phone up Sam and ask if he knows any exorcists. In fact I shouldn't, bc, you know, might set Sam off on another paranoid streak. I'm typing this one-handed while rocking his cradle. Flopsy, I mean, but I didn't go back and edit for clarity because Sam does look ridiculously young for his age and I just made myself snicker._

_Lip-flip's got fully formed itty bitty fingernails. I don't know why that flabbergasts me. I thought I was so smart. Hearing about your dad makes me want to be the best goddamn dad ever, even if it scares me, you know?_

_I want lil' Flabbergasting to take after Eliza as much as possible, of course, but I think it'd be nice if this child had a fraction of your smile. Screw genetics and logic._

_Speaking of you smiling, I'm sending you a care package of sorts later this evening._

***

Jamie was dozing on the couch nearest to the side door with a throw blanket over his head - old habit from back when he was frequently waiting for someone to come home - when a loud knock startled him. "Door's not locked!" he shouted. The others must have forgotten. It made sense when there weren't enough house keys to go around and Dad wasn't here to be assassinated. They had security lurking around, after all.

The knocking continued. Jamie got up and yanked the door open. The guy standing there was about Jack's age, and Jamie had the feeling that he'd seen him before. He had a phone in the hand that wasn't frozen mid-knock. He smiled and tapped it with his index finger. A robotic-sounding text-to-speech program said, **Hello, my name is Thomas Pinckney. Or Thom with silent h. I am Deaf. Alexander asked me to see if John and others would be interested in dinner at my place. You are James, right?**

"Yes," Jamie said, without doing anything special. Presumably if he had asked the question he expected to be able to comprehend the answer.

**It's a surprise for John, but you are all invited. Where is he?**

"Oh hey, it's Thom!” Jack said, coming up behind him, Ned trailing after. Ned had stopped gardening after a wasp stung his leg late this morning, so he'd gone back to the motel to shower, fed himself, and get some work done before returning to The House to receive his emotionally-drained boyfriend. Less than an hour ago they’d gone to hang out (maybe make out?) at the tiny creek on the edge of the property.

Thom didn’t hear him, but when Jack tapped him on the shoulder he turned and went in for a hug. Thom shook Ned’s hand. Jamie observed that they enunciated clearly and made sure to face Thom full on when talking to him. He would do the same.

They located Missy, who’d holed herself up in the guest room going through both Jack’s and Dad’s medical files to check everything was in order. And making some phone calls. She’d already made sure Jack wouldn’t pay a cent no matter what happened, and in the rare possibility that he’d have to stay at the hospital overnight for observation after the donation, he would get a nice private room very far from Dad’s. She was also trying to get Jack’s travel and accommodation costs reimbursed. It had never previously occurred to Jamie that it might be nice to have someone experienced in paperwork and hospital admin on your side.

Thom also shook Missy’s hand. Apparently he’d once gone on a rather emotional road trip with Jack and two other guys, hence the greater intimacy. He’d met Missy and Ned at Alexander’s recent “Come Meet the Baby We Made!” party. He didn’t touch Jamie. That was okay.

They couldn’t find Junior anywhere. Jamie had mixed feelings about that - he wanted Jack and Missy to relax, but he was worried about Junior getting into trouble - but it was what it was. When texted, Junior just replied with “am ok”.

He sighed and shrugged. Time to see another slice of Jack’s world.

***

Thom had a small apartment a short drive out of the city. He drove them, his car tricked out with an extra-wide rear view mirror to compensate for his inability to hear sirens. He said he didn’t mind people talking about stuff unrelated to him behind his back, and that he’d only communicate in an emergency situation while behind the wheel.

When they got there, he explained that Alexander had suggested a few dishes that he knew Jack and Ned liked. He cooked when he missed his wife. He was missing his wife. Liz had passed the Foreign Service Exam on her first try and he had failed it, and he was working on a few things in his hometown until his next chance later this year. Including more lipreading practice. He had trouble with accents he was unfamiliar with, or people who had speech impediments. They’d decided that Liz should start training right away, for a number of good reasons, but that meant a few months of only seeing each other every other weekend or so.

During (the very good) dinner itself, Jamie remembered where he’d seen Thom before. He did a quick Google on his phone. There was a picture of Thom at a Pride event, a woman who was wearing a hearing aid kissing his cheek, while Thom himself was kissing... “Oh my god, you’re kissing Jack’s Alexander!”

Thom smiled and blushed. He put down his knife and fork to type out, **Our ladies are fine with it, I promise. My wife’s the one right there.**

“I remember...there was that uncle of yours, right? And this picture inconvenienced his, uh, his campaign.”

“That’s kinda rude, Jamie,” Missie said, elbowing him.

**Serves him right for mentioning me all the time to show how much he cares about the disabled. I think you may know that feel.**

“Boy do I,” Jamie muttered. Thom gestured for Jamie to repeat it more clearly so he could read it.

“But the relatives that count have come around, right?” Jack asked, an understandable edge to his words.  

Thom nodded. **I eloped, myself, but was recently groomsman for a different uncle, in that picture. Big family. He’s not that much older that me.** He pointed at a small photo on the wall.

Missy said, “Hey, wait a minute...oh my god, the bride is Mary Eleanor!”

Thom gave her updated contact info for her long-lost “soul sister”. Then he wished Jack good luck and pledged whatever help he might need.

Jack squirmed. “It’s a very minor procedure. Local anesthetic, doesn’t take long. They say it’s temporarily uncomfortable at most.”

“Let people make nice gestures for you,” Ned admonished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't write an AU with good ol' Thumb-Pinky, then write a story set in South Carolina and not include him!


	11. divers alarum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Will be crossposted because my update system is so nonlinear)
> 
> I’ve taken a leaf out of Eliza Hamilton’s book and stopped wasting time on tears about a certain upsetting situation. No pressure whatsoever, but if you (like me) are not in a position to do big things or give a lot of money, but are looking for a small way to contribute, the American Civil Liberties Union could use donations more than ever. There are many other worthy groups and I am not saying not donate to them instead. This happens to be the one I feel covers the most bases and that strikes the biggest chord with me.
> 
> To quote Wikipedia: “Current positions of the ACLU include: opposing the death penalty; supporting same-sex marriage and the right of gays to adopt; supporting birth control and abortion rights; eliminating discrimination against women, minorities, and LGBT people; supporting the rights of prisoners and opposing torture; and opposing government preference for religion over non-religion, or for particular faiths over others.” It was founded in 1920. They’ve won many court cases and advocated for many groups, and in the process changed U.S. laws for the better.
> 
> They are happy to take any amount, one-time or recurring. I have signed up to send them $10/month for symbolic reasons. 
> 
> If interested: [ACLU Donation](https://action.aclu.org/secure/become-freedom-fighter-join-aclu-7)

Dad was in such a bad state that the “harvesting” of Jack’s bone marrow cells was scheduled for early that morning, a Monday. They would still need to be processed before transplant. No time to lose.

Missy and Ned went with him. Everyone said it was okay for Jamie to not want to hang around the waiting room for several hours when Jack already had two people who’d be doing that. So he stayed home, watching dumb Youtube videos and sucking on mints because he couldn’t focus on anything else. He was pretty sure Junior was in Dad’s study going over household finances and Dad’s assets yet again. He knew that it wasn’t really greed. It was anxiety. He couldn’t bring himself to check on him.

Someone knocked on his bedroom door around one o’clock. He opened it to find a tray on the floor. It had a tuna melt on sourdough bread, with carrot sticks and homemade sweet potato chips on the side. The carrot sticks were arranged into a pyramid. Childhood favorite. The staff were worried about him. 

At four-thirty-ish, Jamie heard the car pulling into the driveway and ran downstairs and outside. Ned got out of the car, came around, and opened the passenger door like he was a valet, taking Jack’s hand to help him out. 

“I can open my own car door,” Jack said. He was all in one piece, but he looked angry. Furious.

“Indulge me,” Ned said. “Hi, Jamie. We decided to stop by so you can see for yourself that John is fine - well, physically fine - but we’re going to go back to our room to decompress a bit.”

“Achey and tired, otherwise physically fine,” Jack added, through gritted teeth. “Easy procedure. Didn’t go under or anything. Prick to the pelvis, hahahaha. But I also want to hit something with a baseball bat. Slash something up with a sabre. Stomp something under cleats. Whack something with a field hockey stick. Every object in both Winter and Summer Olympics you could damage something with, I want to take one of those, and I want to use it to destroy something. Each.”

“Dude,” Jamie said, eloquently.

“Our father asked to see me right after, you see. He has graciously agreed that since me breaking the ‘no-contact’ rule with you guys has made all this possible, he should not try to enforce it anymore. On the other hand, he’s having a lawyer draw up an NDA for Missy and I to sign. Saying we won’t use my donation as leverage or bring it up in some public way and embarrass him. You know, the whole estranged-gay-son-saved-my-life thing. Because we were totally going to do that, right? Because me being a decent person can only be enforced by lawyers, right?”

“John,” Ned said.

Jack went on, “Technically I’ve just given him the possibility of five-ish, mayyyyyybe up to ten-ish more years, given his age and how advanced the cancer is, but I’m sure most people on the brink of death would give a lot for even just another day. I don’t want any money or even reconciliation, is it so much to ask to want a little respect?”

Ned pulled him close. Jack was shaking a little. “We’re going to the motel. We’ll call you if we’re up for group dinner, okay?”

“Where’s Missy?”

“Her friend Mary turned out to be free today and tonight, but not the rest of the week,” Ned said. He said something soothing-sounding in Spanish and Jack made a soft noise.

“Guess what happens if we don’t sign?” Jack said quietly, bitterly. “Missy will be out of the will, too. He's holding her inheritance as ransom. Her gut reaction was to dismiss it out of hand, but we’re gonna talk about it when she’s available and I’m calmer.”

“That’s an awful situation.” Witty little Jamie, pride of his city and state. “Uh. Hang out tomorrow, maybe, Jack?” 

His brother blinked. He took a deep breath. His tone went gentle. “Yeah, Jim-Jam, sounds good. Yeah.” 

***

They didn’t get in contact with Jamie in time for dinner, so he ate at the little table in the sunroom, like he usually did when there weren’t at least three people involved in the meal. Otherwise the enormous dining table was just scary.

Junior joined him partway through. It was the most intense and serious he’d ever looked while carrying a plateful of a salad in which the cucumber pieces had happy faces carved into them. The staff must have been really worried about Junior. 

“Hi,” Jamie said.

“Hi.”

“How are you?”

“I feel really bad about doubting...”

Then Jamie got a call. Ned’s number. He mouthed an apology. “It’s Jamie, what’s going on?”

“Is John with you?”

“No.”

“Shit.”

Ice shot through Jamie’s veins. “I thought you guys were together.”

“We were, but after a while he said he needed to go out and get some air. That was over two hours ago. I lost track of time because I was getting work done. My car’s still in the parking lot. He’s not answering his phone.” Ned had the exaggerated calm of someone faking it. 

“Have you called Missy?”

“Not yet. I will now.”

He had to tell Junior, and Junior went pale. “Maybe the procedure had side effects and he fainted or something? Maybe he’s out there passed out?”

“Oh my god -”

“Lord’s name in vain -”

“Are you really going to go pedantic AND hypocritical on me about that right now?” Jamie pushed away his food and got to his feet. He’d eaten two-thirds of it. Should be okay. He put two additional Altoids between his left cheek and gum. “I’m gonna go look at, like, walkable areas around their motel. You stay here in case he shows up, got it? Be nice to him. And JESUS MARY JOSEPH AND ALL THE APOSTLES AND THE HOLY TRINITY FOR GOOD MEASURE, Henry Laurens Junior, be sober when he does.”

***

Missy texted Ned and Jamie when she found out where Jack was, but didn’t elaborate. Said he was okay and she was gonna bring him back to the motel.

When Missy said she and Mary were nearly there and to wait in the parking lot, Jamie was tired and sweaty from running around all vaguely pedestrian-friendly areas nearby. Ned had chewed his fingernails down to the nub. They were leaning against Ned’s car for support.

Ned checked his texts again. “Oh. He called Alexander, and Alexander called Missy.”

“Why’d he call Alexander?” Jamie was about to say ‘before calling you?’, but he realized it might not be tactful.

“Alexander is the only person that John feels unafraid telling everything.”

“You sound relaxed about it.” If Jamie had a girlfriend and been in the same position, it would seriously upset him.

Ned turned to look at Jamie, not in the eye, but in his direction. “They’re that close because they met each other while both stripped to the bone, flayed and raw. I don’t envy that.”

The ladies appeared, both of them getting out of the car with Jack. Jamie hadn’t seen Mary Eleanor since Missy left and she stopped coming over to hang out at The House. She looked good. Her wedding ring looked like it was made of golden leaves, and her dress was printed with pineapples.

Jack did not look good. He had a black eye, split lip, and scabbed knuckles, and he was trying to hide behind Missy. His shirt, which said “LOVE IS LOVE IS LOVE IS LOVE IS LOVE IS LOVE…” in rainbow letters, was stained and ripped.

“I must say I’m impressed, because the John Laurens I knew wouldn’t have done well enough in a bar fight to send the other guy to Urgent Care, though not the ER,” Mary said. She was always the optimist. “I knew one of the cops holding him, talked them down to letting him off with a warning. I've done stuff on police brutality on my radio show, which helped get them to take notice. Didn't even have to namedrop Daddy. It was the kind of place where they weren't disturbing the peace, more like adding to the ambience. He's not drunk, so he's not drunk and disorderly. The other guy had a record and swung first. And was, like, twice John’s size.”

“Is he, now,” Ned said evenly. Jack fidgeted.

“I can cancel,” Missy said.

Jack put a hand on her shoulder, and edged around a little so she could see him being authoritative as best he could. “No. You’re not my therapist. You’re my sister, and your life shouldn’t revolve around helping me. Go have fun.”

Mary gave Jamie a hug before leaving, and looked Ned up and down, and stage-whispered, “Is your boyfriend as hot as your brother’s, Missy?” Missy playfully smacked her.

“Shall we go inside?” Jamie asked nervously when it was just the guys again.

“Why don’t you do that?” Ned said. “John, are you hurt other than where we can see?”

“No.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Ned handed Jamie his room key. It was the kind of motel where there aren’t any hallways, just individual room doors opening to the exterior. “Wait for us in there, please.”

 

***

The motel room was not soundproofed well, and the window was broken and couldn’t be closed completely, making it worse. Jamie could hear them. Hear Ned, especially.

“John. I know you’re upset. You have an excellent reason to be. This is not the way to go about it!”

“I’m sorry. I lost my cool.”

“Right, it was such a spur-of-the-moment thing to hail a cab, tell them to take you to specifically the kind of bar where you could start such a thing, to find someone simultaneously more imposing than you yet most likely not as well-trained and, oh, desperately feral with hurt feelings as you, and then bait him into hitting you first, and then fighting just well enough to not get hurt too bad but still get a bit banged up. That didn’t require any calculation whatsoever.”

“You weren’t this angry last time I did it.”

“I was with you! I was by your side, and I could help you! And I knew what the fuck you were up to! You just up and vanished on a day when you are both physically and emotionally vulnerable. I would be happy to care for you and help you for the rest of my life, but you’ve got to meet me halfway!”

“I didn’t ask you to come here and help!”

“No, and I’ve talked to Lafayette about what can happen when you don’t ask for help.”

“That’s low, Ned.”

“You’re not the one who stares that bullet wound of yours every single night and thinks about what if you hadn’t missed, what if it had gone in your mouth…”

“I don’t have a gun anymore.”

“A., this is the U.S, especially the South, so that means very little. You could probably get your hands on one without that much trouble. B. You also nearly jumped off a bridge years before you tried to shoot yourself. You’re creative. Every precious thing you are is wrapped inside an immensely fragile shell, and all of the million things I haven’t done with you could vanish forever in a million different ways.”

“Neddy…”

“Meanwhile Jamie thought you might have fainted somewhere because, you know, you had surgery today. Minor surgery, but surgery.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, but that doesn’t make me not mad. You frightened me, John. You frighten me. I can’t be having you throwing away your shot at life and wellness at every turn. When you go out and get hurt, you’re also hurting people who love you. That’s the price of being loved. If I didn’t love you I wouldn’t be so mad I could spit.”

 

***

“Jack’s gonna stay over tonight,” Jamie announced as he entered the house, their brother trailing behind. Ned had made it clear that he would forgive John, but he needed time to himself first, and if Jack wasn’t comfortable with The House, Alexander had preemptively checked that Thom was up for providing shelter as well. 

No way Jamie was going to shirk brother-care responsibilities.

Junior stood at the foot of the stairs. “I figured. Hey, uh, don’t think an olive branch would be useful to you even if I had one handy, but…” He held out a pack of frozen peas wrapped in a hand towel. Jack looked startled, but took it and pressed it to his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd been wanting to write Ned being really angry for some time now.
> 
> Pineapples are a traditional motif in Charleston, SC, and it's not entirely clear why (it's not really a major pineapple producing area). Fun fact.


	12. Center Stage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for all your comments, folks!

Jack asked Jamie if he could take the t-shirt he fought in to someone who’d wash it. He’d do it himself but he was bad at getting stains out. Jamie noticed that the back of the shirt said, “ _...cannot be killed or swept aside. Now fill the world with music, love, and pride._ \- Lin-Manuel Miranda, ‘Bly’ Best Score Tony Acceptance Speech.”

Eventually both of them had fed and showered. Jack wandered into Jamie’s bedroom, since the door was unlocked, towelling his hair. “Where’s Junior? I want to say something to him.”

“Probably in Dad’s study again.” Jamie looked his brother up and down. Jack was dressed in sweatpants and a thin white undershirt. “You wanna swim with me tomorrow? You look like you like your exercise.”

“Hah. Yeah, sure, if you can lend me something to wear. Ned got me a...” Jack faltered. “He, uh, he got me a gym membership for Valentine’s Day. It was a big deal because I kind of have a history of deliberately overdoing it. Like, trying to make myself collapse. Trust, you see. Big deal.”

“You guys are gonna be fine, promise. I can tell. Now this might not be fun happy times…”

“I want to say something to Junior. Well, ask him something.”

“Okay.”

Junior was where Jamie thought he might be, spinning around slowly in the high-backed desk chair. He was drinking out of a glass and not right out of a bottle, though, which meant he wasn’t that far along. He didn’t look at either of them. “How’s your eye?”

“Less puffy. Thanks.”

After a long pause, Junior said, “I was a bit of a dick when you first showed up. I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you. Faulty data.” Jack and Jamie both took a seat on the leather chaise.

“Now there’s nothing.”

“What do you mean?” Jamie asked.

“If I can no longer believe that Dad knows best, there’s nothing.” He sounded hollow.

Jamie immediately got to his feet, and went to grip the desk across from Junior and lean forward. “There’s plenty. There’s a whole world out there.”

“Maybe for you.” Junior stopped spinning. He closed his eyes and started mimicking a lifetime of adults. _“Don’t expect too much from Jamie. Don’t be hard on Jamie. Jamie’s doing his best. Poor Jamie. Look, Jamie made it a whole semester at a normal school. Why do you have a B-plus in Biology, Henry, we’d agreed you’d keep your grades up. Oh wow, Jamie picked up a ball.”_

That hurt. “I wasn’t doing it to spite you.”

“I know. It’d be super convenient if you were. I could hate you. It’d be great. Hating Jack and Missy was so satisfying, maybe even comforting. Good son is good. Thought I was a diamond in the rough. I’m a shiny piece of coal. Thought he was unimpeachable. Be good son, hate bad siblings. Perfect. Siblings not bad, father’s judgment about good and bad therefore flawed, ergo being a good son, not a legitimate identity.”

Jack got up as well, approaching the chair. “By every objective measure, you’ve taken great care of our father. I heard you came back here constantly to coordinate.”

“Maybe. But what else am I? This family. This house. That’s what.” Junior looked straight up at Jack’s face, upside-down from his perspective. “He knows I love this house. I thought if I was good enough, if I was the best kid you could ever have, maybe he’d change things so I’ll get the house. Missy’ll just sell it. I wish I could hate Missy, but it turns out she’s been taking care of you and is also more badass that I thought she was? I want to raise my kids in this house. I want to plant trees here and pick the fruit when I’m old.”

“Aw, buddy, you need to tell her that.” Jack sounded exactly like he would have when he was seventeen, Junior ten, and Jamie eight. He cautiously put a hand on Junior’s shoulder.

Junior allowed it. He started sniffling. “I know I shouldn’t drink so much, especially Dad’s stuff, but I feel so tight and constricted, and when it makes me breathe a little more -”

“Boys don’t get to cry unless they’re hurt or drunk, am I right?”

A tear rolled down Junior’s face the second Jack said it. Jack gently took the glass away from him and handed it to Jamie. “I don’t think you knew I’m a PA, but also sort of an apprentice.”

“Mm.”

“To an alcoholic. He's getting his seven-years-sober token in a few months. I asked if I could tell you. Don’t go spreading it around.”

“Mm.”

“Meriwether Lewis.”

Junior adjusted so he could stare at Jack properly. “Don’t tease me.”

“No, I’m serious.” A copy of _O the Bay!_ was balanced precariously on the edge of the desk. Junior had to have been the person who put it there. Jack grabbed it. “Do you have a magnifying glass?”

“Dad keeps a little one in this drawer for fine print.”

Jack and Jamie ended up on either side of Junior, the book open to a drawing of the Chesapeake box turtle. “I asked for my name to not be included, because I was terrified our father would somehow track me down and find out that Missy and I were living together at the time. Lewis convinced me that one day I might no longer be terrified, and that we should do something so I could prove my co-authorship later, though he said we’d eventually do a second edition that had my name right on the cover if that happened. Look inside its eye.”

Junior looked through the magnifying glass. “Oh. Gosh.”

“Lemme see.” Jamie took the magnifying glass and angled the book so he could do it properly. Inside the turtle’s eye, what looked like an iris or something was actually a miniscule DRAWN BY JOHN LAURENS. “Whoa!”

“We did it for everything I did the principal sketches for. We corrected each other a lot. And obviously I fixed all of the writing, though the first drafts were all his.”

“Obviously?”

“Lewis is dyslexic. About to announce it so he can do advocacy and stuff. Jack’s been helping him with the speechwriting.” Jamie let Jack flip it to another page.

Their brother was in the feathers of an egret, the stems of reeds, a pebble in a shallow pool. He was tucked into a crab’s carapace and the dark lips of a mussel. They found him in fish gills, wisps of cloud, a bat’s ear, buried in sand and floating in currents.

“Our father hates me, and I did that. I. Did. That. It doesn’t matter what he thinks of any of us. It doesn’t matter what you’ve believed. What are you going to do now? Other than accompany us to watch something in Jamie’s room, sans alcohol?”

It was a little difficult to get to Jamie’s room when Junior was clinging so hard to Jack, but it was worth it. They watched a comedy. Jamie laughed until he got the hiccups.

***

Jamie didn’t get up all that late, but he found Ned working on the garden again, and he clearly had been for some time now. He wore a bandana to keep the sweat out of his eyes. Someone had propped up a beach umbrella a few feet away and left a big jug of water, a box of some rehydration drink mix powder, and a folding chair. Jamie was reminded of the ‘Be Our Guest’ musical number from Disney’s Beauty and the Beast, where it turns out the people who work at the castle are happy to have someone new and nice to look after. He’d have to make sure they all got bigger bonuses than usual this Christmas.

Ned was singing to himself as he alternated between digging out roots with a spade and using a pair of shears and his gloved hands to wrench away the kudzu vines. He also had containers to put in any edibles he found. As Jamie approached, he could hear him.

“ _Let’s put our heads together and start a new country up...our father’s father’s father tried, erased the parts he didn’t like...and we gathered up our friends, bank the quarry river, swim…we knee-skinned it, you and me, we knee-skinned that river red...Cuyahoga, Cuyahoga_ …”

The mystery word made Jamie think of something, but he couldn’t think of what. He settled into the deck chair, watching. Ned dug like Jamie swam.

_“Let’s put our heads together and start a new country up, up underneath the riverbed, we’ll burn the river down...this is where we walked, this is where we swam, take a picture here, take a souvenir…”_

It was going to be even hotter today, and much muggier. Ned was wearing long pants and long sleeves and gloves. In case of another wasp, presumably.

 _“Rewrite the book and rule the pages, saving face, secure in faith, bury, burn the waste behind you...this land is the land of ours, this river runs red over it, we are not your allies, we can not defend...we tried to fill it in..._ um, let’s see, the next line, whatever... _Cuyahoga, Cuyahoga, Cuyahoga gone.”_

“What’s ‘Cuyahoga’?”

Ned put down his spade and went to sit in the chair. “It’s a river in Ohio. White people polluted it so badly that in 1969 it caught fire.”

“Yeesh!”

“But it woke people up. Sparked environmental movements. Sometimes you need something dramatic and painful to start change. I suspect the song’s also about Native Americans. It’s by REM. My dad took me to a concert of theirs once.” Ned took off his gloves and had some water.

“I feel like I’ve heard of another river with C. Like, near here.”

Ned sipped patiently.

“Combahee! There’s a river not that far away called that. Yeah.”

“Huh. Know anything about it?”

“Not really. Can’t think of anything important. Maybe some historical skirmish?”

“No worries.”

Jamie listened to the cicadas for a moment. He waved at Mr. Mendel off in the distance, who appeared to be putting little hats on sunflowers. It made him really happy that Mr. Mendel had worked for them for so long that it had been more trouble than it was worth for Dad to ever fire him, and none of the kids ever would.

“How long have you been out here?” Jamie asked Ned.

“Since sunrise.”

“What? Why?”

“Didn’t sleep well. This called to me. I’ve been a volunteer helping to rebuild houses in Haiti, Jamie, this is no big deal.” Ned cracked his knuckles. “Funny enough, Sacagawea and I bonded over how I can speak some Haitian French and she can speak some Quebecois and neither of us get much respect from people who speak French French. Unless you count Lafayette being enchanted by the novelty. One of his default settings.”

“Sounds like a cool guy.”

“He saved John’s life. Keeps trying to give him a car. If he finds out I brought him up when scolding John, he’s going to swoon over a piece of antique furniture over being _‘a point of contention among my beloved comrades!’_ His wife’ll tut and stack things on him until he stops being furniture.” Ned’s overdone French accent when presumably imitating Lafayette was hilarious. He took a final gulp of water and went back to work.

Until Jack appeared and he froze. Jack had been out running. He had something behind his back. “Hi.”

Ned turned to face him better. “Hi.”

Jack sounded like he'd been rehearsing his speech. “I’m sorry I picked a bad coping mechanism, and even more sorry that I didn’t check in and just left you to panic when I knew there were a lot of good reasons for you to be panicky.”

Ned sounded equally rehearsed. “I’m sorry I made unfair digs in the process of explaining how I felt. It would be a lie to say I didn’t mean the gist of what I said, but some of the ways in which it came out, and the ways I expressed them then they did, was harsher than productive. Or accurate.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Jack revealed that he’d made a wreath of kudzu vines. “I thought you might like a crown commemorating your vanquished foes.”

“I think I might.” Ned knelt down and picked a white flower. “This was being choked under the weeds.”

Jack undid the bandana and put the crown on Ned’s head. Ned tucked the flower behind Jack’s ear. They stood very close. Jack gave a crooked smile, folding the bandana into a small triangle. He put it in his pocket. “So...when you said that thing about being happy to take care of me for the rest of your…”

“Why don’t we go for a walk and talk? We need to figure out how to keep this from happening like this again. Let’s really fix this. Not just band-aid solutions.”

“Neat. I need to cool down anyway. Then pledge undying affection?"

“That could be on the table. How are your knuckles?”

“Fine. How are yours? You’ve been gardening.”

“In gloves.”

“I should still check.” Jack took Ned’s hands in his and inspected them. Then he kissed the knuckles.

“Oh my word, seriously?” Junior appeared on the scene, dressed for racquetball in vivid frat-boy pastels, which suggested he was going to meet up with a friend. “College and therefore exposure helped get me to a point where the fact that you’re both men doesn’t make me viscerally queasy, but ya’ll better stop being this schmoopy on a day when I’m not hungover for once. I don't want to think of my brother being all cute. Stop being so cute. Stop. Now."

"Never," Jack said.

"We'll be cute by the willow trees," Ned suggested diplomatically. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That song, which I've known for years, now makes me think of Laurens a little, and I had to infect other people with the notion. 
> 
> I finally worked out a way to have my Ned have spent time in Haiti! Haha!


	13. (Addresses Audience)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been waiting SO LONG to get to this part of the story, folks!
> 
> Serious feels warning. Poignant-type feels. Only good things happen, though there are thoughts about bad past things.
> 
> Did you cry when Martian and John were reunited at the end of Sharps Hour? I estimate this to be similar in the feels rating. Just so you don't read this when you have to be presentable five minutes later, if you're the sensitive type.
> 
> More typical trigger warning: there's a light-in-tone anecdote that involves brief mentions of someone being groped and someone else semi-seriously being threatened with strangulation.

_From: Martha Manning_

_To: John Laurens_

_Re: Ned and Junior_

_I’m really happy the kid’s coming around and breaking free of his programming. Sounds like he really just wants love and acknowledgment. You’re good at giving people those things. You deserve getting as much of the good things in your life back as possible._

_As for the Ned thing, YE GODS, EARTHLING I would have torn you a new one. And not nearly been mature enough to patch up the deeper wounds as well as the surface one. That’s Jane’s territory. She has to drag me kicking and screaming into real solutions after we fight instead of me just crawling into bed and trying to kiss all it better._

_I think it’s a really good idea that you’ve hashed out a system for evaluating when he’s being too fussy vs. when you’re being too reckless, and alternate things for when you want to destroy stuff and get your hands dirty. And figured out ways for him to feel calmer when it’s a situation where he needs to let you get a little bruised in a controlled manner. It’s really neat that your gym membership includes big discounts on all those different types of classes! Be careful that the boxing instructor knows what your shoulder can handle and what it can’t, okay?_

_Don’t be annoyed if your boyfriend wants you to check in with him more often when you’re on your own and seriously upset. Imagine if Jamie disappeared for four hours and you found out he’d been doing parkour on crumbling castle walls. On a tangential note, that picture of him in the ivy crown and you with the flower in your hair is so sweet I’ll have to take both coffee and tea without sugar for days just to balance it out._

_Your favorite gal pal, all the way across the sea,_

_Martian_

***

Jack and Jamie were playing something vaguely resembling water polo when Junior showed up in shorts and a Ralph Lauren polo shirt.

“Don’t you usually go see Dad on Tuesdays?” Jamie asked. He wasn’t trying to be critical, he was just surprised. Since Dad was hospitalized near the beginning of summer vacation, Junior had kept up a regular schedule of visiting him every day except Thursday and Saturday. Jamie had kept up an irregular schedule of once a week-ish.

Junior sighed and held his John Grisham paperback close to his chest. “I’m too upset with him today. It wouldn’t be productive. I had some new magazines sent to him, and I’ll see him tomorrow. They’ll start prepping him for surgery soon.”

“Thank you for doing the hard part of looking after him.” Jack tossed the volleyball idly in the air. Jamie kept sneaking glances at both his tattoo and his prominent network of scars. He’d learned during their long drive together that Jack being comfortable shirtless with anyone except doctors, Missy, Ned, a handful of very close friends, and Alexander was a recent development.

(This had led to a discussion about the concept of “queerplatonic”, in which Alexander was at a halfway point between a friend and a sex-free romantic partner, with a certain brotherly feel as well. Then about how Lafayette lived in his own cultural amalgamation where platonic friendship with any gender could include copious cuddling and handholding, which his wife Adrienne regarded with fond amusement. Then how his friend “Martian” had become his personal advice columnist, while herself being married to an actual advice columnist/romance novelist. And how Pierre had once literally stopped in the middle of elaborate sex to take a distressed phone call from Jack and calm him down. Which somehow led to the story of Pierre having a non-binary datefriend, small of stature, who managed to get a shoelace around a guy’s throat and threatened to tighten it after the dude groped Pierre on a crowded dance floor. Jack knew interesting people.)

Junior made his way to a deck chair under a big umbrella and helped himself to a drink from the water/ice tea station on the table next to it. “He’s not bad all the time, especially when you’re in good graces. Sometimes it’s even fun.”

“I know,” Jack said quietly. “There are times when I wish he was. Then I could just hate him. Cleanly. Like how you’ve wished you could hate us.”

Junior nodded. He kicked off his flip-flops and wiggled his toes like he was about to play a tiny piano with them.

“You gonna throw me the ball or what?” Jamie asked, to break the silence once it got too long and painful.

Then Ned showed up carrying a bundle wrapped in plastic sheeting. “Guys, I found something buried in the garden. Is Missy back from her friend’s house?”

“She went straight to the kitchen to catch up with some staff members who were burning with curiosity about what she’s been up to,” Junior said. “I’ll go get her.”

***

“How was your sleepover?” Jamie asked when Missy came into earshot. He and Jack had dried off and wrapped themselves in towels.

“It was amazing. We shrieked and hugged and drank smoothies and mutually fangirled over Welcome to Night Vale - I mean she likes creepy stuff and does local radio and that's what the show is ABOUT - and after the whole business with Jack we had dinner, then we regressed to teenagers and did each other’s toenails. Her husband hid in their room to save himself from the laughing and occasional weeping. And at one in the morning we went to an all-night diner for chicken and waffles.”

“I’m glad you had fun,” Jack said, beaming.

“Have you put on sunscreen?” Ned asked his boyfriend. When Jack gave him a look and rolled his eyes, Ned said, “Right, our new agreement about me fussing. Sorry.”

“You can help me fix my hair later,” Jack offered. Ned smiled.

Junior and Missy joined the others around the table where Ned had placed the mysterious bundle. There was a big umbrella over this able, too, and the area near the pool had lots of trees. The pool guy had to take leaves out constantly, but it was nice to have the shade.

“I brought scissors,” Junior said, holding them up triumphantly. He cut through the plastic.

Inside was a large box with a combination lock. Scratched onto the lid was a hint: TOO CLOSE.

“This is very Dan Brown,” Junior commented.

Jamie snorted. “What is it with you and the kind of paperbacks you get at airport bookstores?”

“Does anyone have any idea where this might have come from?” Junior asked, ignoring Jamie’s snipe. “Not literally from underground, but, like, who put it there?”

“No idea,” Jamie said, and Jack shook his head.

Missy chewed her lower lip for a second, then her eyes went wide. “It’s the time capsule. You two would have been too little - Jack, don’t you remember? It was summer vacation. You were twelve, I was nine, Junior was six, Jamie...this wasn’t long after Jamie’s accident. He was home, but he could hardly walk or talk. We were all depressed and Mami wanted us to have a project to keep us busy.”

Jack chewed his own lower lip in an identical gesture before saying, “Vaguely, now that you mention it. I wasn’t in a good headspace. But if you’re right, I think I know what the code is. Hope the plastic kept it from rusting.”

He turned the four dials and pressed the button. The box popped open immediately. The other siblings gasped. Ned just looked proud, like he completely expected Jack to be able to do stuff like that.

“What was it?” Junior asked.

“The day and month of Jamie’s accident.”

“How do you remember that off the top of your head?” Jamie asked, then winced at his own phrasing.

“Because I was babysitting you when it happened,” Jack murmured. Missy rubbed his back.

Junior coughed. “Let’s look at the treasure box, then.”

It had lots of adorable photos of them in small photo albums, organized by child most prominently featured: Nativity plays, sporting events, embarrassing poses, first steps, tumbling around with each other. One Halloween had Jack dressed as a Revolutionary War Continental Army soldier, and Jamie dressed a tiny ghost. There was particularly precious one with Jack proudly holding baby Jamie (under supervision), and Junior making faces in the background. From age seven onwards, Mary Eleanor featured in a few of Missy’s pictures.

Their mother was in a lot of the pictures. Their father was in a few, looking genuinely warm and loving: walking hand-in-hand with Missy in the rain, with matching umbrellas. Pretending that the boys had topped him over and were holding him trapped on the carpet. Taking the children to church on Sunday, looking at the cross on the door, leading them like a bunch of ducklings. Sometimes he was a good dad. Sometimes it was real. Especially when they had been too young to disappoint him.

Nobody talked about that. There was more to discover. There were also handprints in baked clay. Homemade Christmas ornaments. Letters written in pencil or crayon to their future selves, by everyone who was old enough to read and write at the time. Some packaged lollipops that one of them must have naively thought would still taste good. A laminated picture Jack had drawn of all four of them, surrounded by hearts.

Missy was wiping her eyes by the time they got to the last. “We were supposed to dig it up fifteen years later, my letter says. She died and we all forgot.”

“However I feel about....certain stuff...about...things...and you...and my brother….Ned, I’m really grateful for this.” Junior held out a hand.

Ned shook it, his smile slow and surprised. After letting go, he said, “That can’t be all that’s in the box. Too heavy. Did she pack it without you watching?”

“Maybe there’s a false bottom!” Jamie carefully moved aside all the keepsakes in order to examine the inside of the box itself. There. He noticed a tiny gap in one corner, and slipped a fingernail in and pulled. All he could say about what he found was, “Oh.”

The bottom had a laminated letter. It also had a bunch of gold and silver. Mostly gold. In stamped bars. Gleaming at them.

“And you made fun of me for comparing this to Dan Brown books,” Junior stage-whispered, gently elbowing Jamie in the ribs.

Missy took out the letter in shaking hands. “Mami’s handwriting. It’s all in Spanish. Maybe so Dad couldn’t read it? Ned, you’re fluent.” She held it out to him.

Ned leaned away. “You’re very good these days. Got most of it back. It’s not my...it’s for you.”

“I’ll translate as I go, because I know Jamie and Junior lost all of it.” Missy knew that Junior had been pushed to study Mandarin Chinese, and Jamie had been excused from second language learning requirements because that part of his brain never quite got up to normal. He was lucky he’d recovered when it came to English.

“Take a break,” Jack said. "If you need to."

Missy read it all the way through once, silently. She breathed. Breathed. “‘ _John. Martha. Little Henry. James. As I write this, I am very ill, but able to hide it for now. Should I run or let it be? I have not yet told you. I don’t want to make you sad so soon after our scare. I hope that I can stay with you long enough to see Jamie run and play again. If I can, I will be satisfied.’”_

Jamie made a noise he had never made before. Jack wrapped his arms around him.

 _“‘I hope by now you have all grown up strong, kind, and true, no matter what. I fear that a certain person - the word is too easy to translate, so I will not use it - may try to control you through money. I fear that this person will not allow you to be who you wish to be. Who you are meant to be. It is not much, compared to what that person could give you, or take away from you, but here is what I have managed to secretly gather together. I trust you to be fair with one another. I love you all very dearly. Do not rush to the other side to meet me too soon. My loves, take your time.’_ ”

Jack was busy holding onto Jamie, so Missy made a split-second decision and started sobbing into Ned’s chest. He seemed fine with it, even stroking her hair. It looked like they’d done it before.

Jamie say Junior just sitting and staring into space, so he reached out and poked him. “C’mere. Jack’s arms are long enough.”

***

It took all of them awhile to be able to talk coherently again. They had some water or tea, and used the stack of paper napkins provided next to the five glasses in the place of tissues. They went back to the table.

Missy took a long drink of water before speaking. “Junior. Here’s a deal.”

“Oh?”

“Jack and I don’t sign the NDA. I get cut out of the will. You get the house - which I know you adore, it’s obvious - and you and Jamie both get a bigger slice of the pie. Meanwhile, Jack and I get the treasure Mami left us, and split it half and half. Except for the keepsakes, which we split up among the four of us. No quibbling. No effort to figure out the monetary value before you go to our father tomorrow and hand him my letter telling him exactly what we think of his stipulation. Trust.”

Junior put his glass down because his hands had started shaking. He laid them flat. “There’s no way what’s in the box is anything near equivalent to what you’d be giving up. You don’t know what it’s worth.”

Missy put a hand on Junior’s. She looked around the table. “It’s worth having my brothers back."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I teared up writing that letter.


	14. (Lights Rise)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some discussion of the accident. Not gory.
> 
> Mention of past self-harm via deliberate overexertion.

From: Martha Manning  
To: John Laurens  
Re: !

DESERVED.

<3 MM

***

“So this is the first time you’ve come close enough to see this wall since then.” Jamie patted the crumbling stone wall in question. The tallest part came up to his shoulder.

“Yes. It’s been seventeen years.” Jack cautiously poked it. “You didn’t fall right onto the grass, you see. Your skull hit one of these rocks around, uh, near the base. Maybe that one. Even shallow head wounds bleed a lot. Yours wasn’t - it wasn’t shallow.”

“We don’t have to do this.”

“I want to.”

Jamie waited as his brother squinted at the mostly partly cloudy sky. The wall was on one of the far edges of their property. It was old, maybe even two hundred or more years old, and because of that they’d been reluctant to tear it down. Before the accident, their parents had all sorts of ideas about what they might do with this grassy space, plant trees or have a playhouse built or whatnot. After the accident everyone had sort of pretended it didn’t exist. 

Very late on the night after he turned eighteen, Jamie had perched on it and had a cigarette. Just the one. Then his new swim coach at college threatened to kick anyone off the team if they took up smoking, as was oddly common among freshmen. So he switched to dipping instead. He felt like it made his brain more woven together, like the gaps with thin wires stretched over them had shrunk, or even closed. Eventually he figured out this was in large part an illusion. It was just that withdrawal made him feel like giant chasms had formed.

Jack stared at the wall, like he’d be making eye contact with it if it had eyes. “I didn’t have a cell phone. I mean, seventeen years ago, pretty sure twelve-year-olds didn’t, as a rule. I know someone who gave his kid a phone when she turned five, but she’s only in middle school now, I think. Besides, Patsy’s phone case is far less blinged out that her dad’s. She’s a lot more levelheaded than him.”

“Jack, you’re wandering.” He’d asked Jamie to let him know if he started doing that.

“Right. What I did was scream. It wasn’t a conscious decision. It just - it was like I was A Scream. I was a vessel for screaming. It was Mr. Mendel who got there first.”

“Really? Has someone told me that?” It made sense, though, given the head gardener’s propensity to wander around doing quirky things with plants at all hours. 

“Possibly. He tried to lead me away, but that made me scream more. We were warned not to move you, in case there was something wrong with your spine, but he sat down and took your hand and took mine as well. You were unconscious, but he pointed out that your chest was rising and falling. It’s a blur after that. The next thing I remember is Mami holding me and telling me that she was going to the hospital with you, and that you were going to get taken care of super well, and when you felt better I could go see you, but right now I needed to breathe.”

Jamie put a hand on Jack’s shoulder. He couldn’t remember if it was the good one or not, but Jack didn’t shrug it off. “Hey, if you hadn’t been so loud, it might have taken longer for an adult to come along.”

“You know, in all these years, nobody’s said that.” Jack gave him a half-smile. He scraped at some moss with a fingernail. “Our father was the one who got me back to the house, actually. I thought he was going to yell at me. You know what? He didn’t.”

“He didn’t?” It was sad how surprised Jamie was.

“No. He gave me a hug and sat me down, told me that you’re a rambunctious kid and it’s not like I could have physically grabbed you mid-fall, given our respective sizes and how fast it happened. Said he’d seen me play with you and knew I was responsible. Asked if I wanted anything special for dinner. I politely turned him down and said I had a headache, may I please go to my room, I’ll say a prayer and lie down for a bit. He said that was a good idea.” 

“Wow.” Jamie removed his hand from Jack’s shoulder. He started drumming his fingers on top of the wall instead.

"After I went to my room I did pushups to make my brain stop. I did at least thirty.”

“You were twelve!”

“Exactly.”

“Didn’t you collapse or pass out or something?”

“More or less. Had aching noodly arms for a few days, too.” 

Jamie sprang to hug him tightly. “And Dad’s never physically hurt us.”

“Nope. I did that all on my own.”

“Do you dream about that day?”

“...Yes,” Jack said in a small voice. 

“Right.” Jamie stepped back. “I’m going to carefully sit on this wall, and you’re going to take a picture of me. We’re going to print out the photo super big and high-quality, and frame it, and you’re going to keep it in your home, and whenever you have a nightmare about that day, you’re going to look at that picture and have proof right in front of your eyes that I. Am. Fine. Then we’re going to lean against this wall while we have our picnic, because the Addams Family motto translates to, ‘We gladly feast on those who would subdue us.’ Ned would make a good Gomez, by the way.”

Jack blinked, then he grinned and got out his phone.

 

***

Junior showed up while his brothers were spreading out the picnic blankets and unpacking the cooler and hamper. “He didn’t kill the messenger, at least,” he said. 

“I’m glad,” Jack said gently.

“Did you enjoy hanging out at the country club and a stirring round of betting on horses and dodging icky poor people en route?” Jamie said, gesturing. “Nice Ray Bans. And cardigan tied around your neck. In summer.”

“Have you found your fixie bike after someone stole it at the upcycled fair-trade crafts fair while you were enjoying a raw goat milk smoothie?” Junior retorted. “Nice octopus pinkie ring and ever-encroaching bangs. Did you rip those shorts just so you could mend them with ombre scraps of fabric?”

“What if I did?”

“I will have you know I like to bet on football, not horses, and I will coexist with people of every income level as long as they shower regularly.”

“Have some chips and salsa,” Jack suggested, suppressing laughter.

“No. But I will have some cocktail shrimp.” Junior lowered himself to sit among them. 

Jack patted him on the back. “Missy’s good and disinherited, right?”

“Had to convince him that I hadn’t forced her to write the letter somehow. She was happy to confirm it via phone. Afterwards the nurses suggested that we stop dropping emotional bombshells on him for awhile.” Junior thoughtfully dunked his shrimp up and down in the pot of cocktail sauce. “Is she really dating a visually impaired Lebanese immigrant who’s been married twice?”

“It makes me think of that Doctor Who episode when someone says to a bunch of Nazis that she was on her way to a homosexual Jewish wedding for the disabled earlier,” Jamie commented. He was fighting with the tab on a can of Coke, and would glare daggers at anyone who tried to help him.

Jack didn’t try. “Dr. Ramzi? Yeah. One of the wives died, so you can’t blame him for that. He’s fine with his glasses and magnifiers and being in well-lit rooms. He’s also an accomplished general practitioner who’s encouraged her writing hobby and helping her maybe get published. Gives her backrubs when she’s stressed. Got me a National Geographic subscription for Christmas.”

“How do you both have such great significant others?” Jamie groaned. He put the Coke back in the cooler for now. Rest his fingers. There were a ridiculous number of berries Ned had located, available both in original form and in some kind of crumble thing. Plus he’d found some mushrooms that Mr. Mendel had confirmed as edible, and they’d been incorporated into a homemade pizza. 

“We were both lonely and miserable for years. Paid our dues.” Jack phone pinged. He took it out. “Ned and Missy are on their way from the bank.”

 

***

“So it turns out the box wasn’t full of gold and silver,” Missy began. She paused long enough that Jamie thought of several consoling things to say. Then she continued, “It was full of gold and platinum.”

Jack dropped a mini corn muffin. (It landed wrapper-side-down, though, so he just picked it up again.)

Ned took a seat next to him. “We deposited the equivalent amounts into your and her bank accounts right away, so we wouldn’t be nervous about getting mugged.”

“I was terrified on the way there, even though I knew it was unlikely,” Missy said. She sat between Jamie and Junior and made grabby hands at the fried chicken. It was a weird hodgepodge of a picnic. Jamie wasn’t complaining.

“How much did it turn out to be in cash?” Jack asked. He handed Ned a chilled, reusable water bottle full of tap water. Ned had Strong Feelings about drinking bottled water in countries where tap was safe.

“Roughly $35,000 for each of you. I’m told this is still much, much, much less than Junior and Jamie are each going to get, which frightens me if I think about it too hard.”

“Lafayette loses that much under the couch cushions, ‘and I exaggerate only slightly’.” Jack said the last phrase in the same overdone French accent Ned had used when imitating Lafayette. "He'd pay for my whole trip if I let him, which I won't."

“I’m not dating Lafayette, or anyone related to Lafayette.” Ned took a sip of water, then said, “You know, you’ve been wanting to go to Europe to see Lafayette and Martian, maybe even Francis now that you’ve gotten back in touch, if his wife doesn’t mind...”

“What about chucking it into the maybe-buy-the-apartment-not-just-rent-it fund we’ve kind of started?”

“Not saying not to do that. You should do something fun, too. You haven’t traveled, except for this trip, since Lafayette left. Baltimore with Lewis doesn't count. Driving to NYC from DC wasn’t that extravagant, either.” Ned took one of the mushrooms he’d found off the pizza and ate it separately. 

“I was thinking of maybe taking some time off work entirely, so I could do grad school full time and finish faster,” Missy said.

Jack chuckled to himself. “The first morning I spent with Alexander - as temporary roommates, Junior, not like that - I heard him singing ‘96,000’ in the shower. ‘We’ll pay all the debts we owe-oh-oh, we’ll help everyone we know-oh-oh…”

“Look what their restricted circumstances have done to our brother and sister,” Junior stage-whispered to Jamie in mock horror.

"Junior, I want you to take a quiz to see if you're an alcoholic.”

“Missy!”

“I can see the hip flask,” Missy said sternly. They started arguing.

“Love is a lot of stuff,” Jamie quietly said to Jack. It seemed less stupid outside his head, for once.

Jack nodded. He smiled and stretched in the sunlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John is referring to Martha "Patsy" Jefferson, Jr. when talking about kids with cell phones.


	15. Encore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was really fun and in many ways therapeutic to write. I have no siblings, but there are themes here that go beyond that, plus the act of writing and having it so warmly and enthusiastically received, especially with how engaged so many of you clearly are, as though this was really profound. <3
> 
> Thank you for coming along with me on yet another little journey.

_ From: James Laurens _

_ To: Martha Laurens _

_ CC: John Laurens _

_ Re: Father Dearest _

_ In case he hasn’t told you, Junior has ended up taking the semester off in order to help with Dad’s recovery. He says he’s much more skeptical of everything Dad says now, but he still considers himself obligated. He’s the person best suited for it, he says, at least the day-to-day stuff. He appreciates your offer to visit on the occasional weekend to lend a hand, Missy, and he’s going to take you up on it. Talk to him about that. Don’t let Jack’s efforts go to waste. _

_ He’s also experimenting with group therapy. The intense focus of Alcoholics Anonymous is a bit of a jump for him, but he’s conceded that he would benefit from working through his issues. And he’s making an effort to quit drinking. If he relapses I’m allowed to destroy one item of his clothing that I consider awful. Besides, I know caregiver stress is a thing. Your stories have taught me that.  _

_ I haven't relapsed with nicotine! :D _

_ I’m told Dad came home from the hospital today. He can walk a little. I’ve attached the medical/legal/financial mumbo jumbo since I know you’re a fan.  _

_ The new semester’s going okay so far. I have an 8 AM class, which is TERRIBLE, but I’ve made friends with a newbie on the swim team. Also I think I might have a date this Saturday. I need to check with her whether it’s a date. _

_ Looking forward to seeing you this Thanksgiving. You’d better show me around DC while I’m there. Junior says he needs to figure out what Dad would be doing then before he commits, no matter how curious he is about your new world. I could trade off with him sometime, maybe, when I'm on a break. Free him up. _

_ Dad’s gotten a little more, I guess maybe, uh, introspective? He hasn’t done a 180 or anything, but he’s not exactly the same. I’m still figuring out how to articulate that. I’ll be visiting soon as I can. _

_ You need to tell me how full-time grad school’s going. :) _

 

_ Hugs, _

_ Jamie _

 

****

 

Jamie finished telling the whole story. He started picking at his fingernails. October in South Carolina wasn’t particularly chilly anyway, relatively speaking, but it was warm even for that. A good afternoon for sitting on the porch. 

His father got cold easily, though, and his immune system was still weak after the doctors had to sabotage it so he could accept the transplant. Henry Laurens, Sr., adjusted the fuzzy bathrobe he’d taken to swathing himself in. 

The silence stretched on so long that Jamie glanced over to make sure Dad hadn’t fallen asleep. He hadn’t. 

Jamie nearly jumped when his father said quietly, “So that’s what my children think of me.”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“You need to understand, with your brother -” There was a pleading edge to it.

“I’m done hearing you explain what you’ve done to Jack and supposedly why. I’m interested in hearing what you might do now.”

“I see.”

Another long, long, longgggg silence.

“Dad, you’ve been doing things a certain way all these years. You’ve got a few more now. A gift. It won’t change everything, but look how little it took for me to get stronger, Junior to let go of resentment, and Missy to reconnect with us. And Jack - don’t make faces, you might never make peace with him again, but if you love me, you gotta accept that I love him no matter what - he put down a huge burden of fear and guilt that he’s had all these years. It’s like the river that caught fire. Showed us what we needed to do.” Jamie was worried his speech was running away from him, but he hadn’t had time to write a draft beforehand or anything. “All that happened because of a few, though really dramatic, days. What could happen in a few, less dramatic but more intentional, years? What seeds will you plant in a garden you might never see? When your children tell your story, what story will they tell?”

Dad drummed the fingers of his left hand on the arm of his chair. “I’ve not been conscious of intentional error…”

“Well, wake up.”

“I was going to say that I suppose I should know too much about human nature to not believe I’ve made -”

“Many errors?”

“Jamie, don’t push it.”

“Sorry. There’s calling you out and there’s being an annoying kid.”

“At least you know there’s a difference.” Dad chewed on his lower lip. “The hospital where Missy works. Worked. Where your brother went. Do you know how much it would have cost him to stay there if he hadn’t received whatever sponsorship he must have?”

“I could find out.”

“Do. See if they take donations.” After a pause, he said, “Make no mistake, I’m not interested in talking to him.”

“If you were, I think he’d slam the door in your face.” 

“Is it time for lunch?”

Baby steps, Jamie thought to himself as he ran to ask someone. 

It was just a spark, but maybe they could fan this spark into a flame. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I were actually going to cast a play based on this story, and I could cast anyone at all, I would do the following. Note symbolic doubling.
> 
> ALL THESE YEARS PLAYBILL  
>  
> 
> James “Jamie” Laurens — Jose Ramos  (Chicago cast Laurens/Philip, no literal relation)
> 
> Martha “Missy” Laurens — Mandi Gonzalez  (New Broadway Angelica)
> 
> John “Jack” Laurens — Anthony Ramos
> 
> Eduardo “Ned” Stevens — Javier Muñoz
> 
> Alexander Hamilton / Henry “Junior” Laurens, Jr. — Lin-Manuel Miranda 
> 
> Peggy Schuyler / Mary Eleanor — Jasmine Cephas Jones
> 
> Angelica Schuyler-Church / Hospital Nurse — Renée Elise Goldsberry
> 
> Voice of Martha "Martian" Manning / Nurturing Housekeeper - Sasha Hutchings  
> (Original Broadway Cast Swing Who I Have a Crush On)
> 
> Thomas Pinckney / Background Security Guard — Jon Rua (Original Broadway Charles Lee)
> 
> Henry Laurens, Sr. / Greg Mendel — Brian d’Arcy James (Original Off-Broadway King George III)


End file.
